Old Devil Moon: Bella Runs
by gwenniekate
Summary: Bella Swan moves in with her father in quaint Forks, WA. Most of the people seem friendly, but there is something disturbing and scary about that Edward Cullen kid at school... and Bella's not sure she wants to find out what it is. J/B early & E/B later
1. It's a Lonesome Old Town

Welcome to my first attempt at fan fiction!

This story is based on the concept of Bella being exactly as afraid of Edward as he always insisted she should be. I start at the beginning to show how little changes can make a big difference in the end. If you don't like reading re-writes of canon and want to skip past all the subtle changes into my really original stuff, proceed to Chapter 4: I'm Gonna Live Till I Die, then Chapter 7: Sand and Sea, then pick up at Chapter 9: Downtown. After that, you won't recognize the story. Thank you for reading!

Inspired by Ella Fitzgerald's song "Midnight Sun," I am paying homage to her peers and times by naming my story and all the chapters after songs recorded by the great Frank Sinatra. As I'm sure you are aware, all characters and associated content belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1: It's a Lonesome Old Town**

It was my first day at Forks High School that I first saw Edward Cullen.

I had already acquired a small, unwanted entourage during the course of my morning. Jessica Stanley, a friendly enough girl who liked talking about herself even more than about me, had taken me under her wing and led me to a lunch table where I was clearly the hot topic for the day. I kept my head down and tried to manage eating lunch without being overwhelmed by all the attention I was getting as the new girl. It was exactly the type of scene I avoided back in Phoenix-generally I had sat alone with a book or some homework.

But this wasn't Phoenix. This was tiny Forks High School, where not much ever happened. I sat at a table with seven strangers and tried to make conversation, tried to save face for the next year and a half's sake. I was taking in my surroundings when I caught sight of five beautiful and bizarre teenagers, all very different from one another and yet all the same, and all sitting alone at a table on the far side of the cafeteria.

I couldn't help asking Jessica about them. She would have noticed me staring, anyway. I just couldn't stop studying their faces, their postures, their movements. They looked perfect, striking. Back in Phoenix, they would have been surrounded by people, popular beyond belief. Then again, back in Phoenix, they wouldn't have been nearly so pale. These five had impossibly white skin. I had always thought my skin to be so pale it was translucent. Next to them I would have looked like Malibu Barbie. A really ugly Malibu Barbie.

It wasn't just their beauty that held my attention, though. There was something unsettling about them. They all sat with perfect poise, looking completely disinterested in anyone or anything. While several of them played with their food, no one seemed to be eating any. As I watched, the youngest boy suddenly looked up at me. He caught me staring, so I blushed and looked away, but something in his expression made me want to look back up.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked, hoping to hear he was the most bizarre of the bunch. Maybe Jessica would say he stared dumbly at people sometimes. I tilted my head so I could steal a peek at him through my hair. He was still looking at me.

"That's Edward. He's perfect of course…" Jessica started prattling off bitterly about how Edward wouldn't date her and so on, but I stopped paying attention. Clearly no reputation for being a starer.

Edward was starting to turn away from me, and by the way his cheek lifted, I guessed he had somehow heard what Jessica was saying and was laughing to himself. I didn't care if he laughed or not, but something about him definitely disturbed me. The way he had looked at me made me feel as though I had already disappointed him somehow. Not only that, something about his face gave me a prickly feeling behind my neck. It was overly smooth, like polished stone or the surface of undisturbed water. Certainly not like a high school boy.

Definitely not like a boy who would want to stare at me for any length of time. Not for any good reason, anyway.

I bit my lip as I considered what I might have done wrong. His family was certainly the most unusual bunch at the school. Maybe he enjoyed being a freak, and he was angry with me for taking attention away from him. Well, if that were the case, I was honestly sorry. I didn't want the attention. He could have it.

I was relieved to hear the bell ring to signal the end of lunch. The sooner I could get out of Edward's line of sight, the better. I hastily threw away the rest of my lunch, but Jessica and the others really took their time getting up from the table. I didn't want to seem rude, but I was anxious to get to class. At least Edward left the lunch room swiftly. I wouldn't have to worry about bumping into him.

A girl who had been sitting at our table in relative silence introduced herself as Angela and pointed to my schedule.

"We have biology together next," she said. "I'll walk you."

Biology. What a relief. I could handle biology.


	2. Too Close for Comfort

Since I am a few chapters ahead of myself, I am going ahead and posting Chapter 2. Thank you for reading! Before we begin, a couple of notes:

Inspired by Ella Fitzgerald's "Midnight Sun," I am paying homage to her peers and times by naming my story and chapters after songs recorded by the great Frank Sinatra.

Also, all the characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Now to the fun!

* * *

We were last into the biology lab, and I could easily see which seat was mine as soon as Angela took her place. There was a single empty chair, and it was directly next to Edward the Freak.

Apparently, the universe hated me.

I had to pass my new, oh-so-enthusiastic lab partner on the way to get my schedule signed by the teacher, and I could see the boy stiffen as I passed. Instinctively, I checked his face; as if stung, I looked away again. No longer a look of bewilderment or disappointment, his expression had developed into one of blind hatred.

So my lab partner was a zombie or something, _and_ he hated me. Evidently, I had quite an interesting semester of biology labs ahead of me.

After getting the required signature, I took my seat gingerly. The freak actually leaned away from me, as if I were the weird one. What did I do to him?

The glare he had shot me as I had passed the lab bench haunted me through the hour-long class. Deep, black eyes, illuminated by the depth of emotion behind them, burned through me. White, flawless skin crinkled like stone crumbling under great pressure. A dark, heavy brow furrowed over long eyelashes, like so many spider legs quivering in preparation to capture some prey.

The memory washed over me again and again, bringing chills and cold sweats with each new wave. Nevertheless, I tried and tried to focus on the lecture instead of the memory of the awful look from my lab partner, and, after a while, I succeeded.

Even so, I couldn't help looking at him every now and then during the lecture. Strangely, though not surprisingly, he kept perfectly still for the entire hour. No fidgeting, no weight-shifting, just tense stillness. He only looked at me one more time, and it was with such detest that I regretted having seen it.

Heat rose to my neck and cheeks. I had never been discriminated against that way before, and I resented it. Even being repelled by him as I was, I had the decency not to treat him like a flea-infested dog! Though, after this, I might be tempted to. I resented being made to felt like some repulsive thing. I was clean, competent and friendly; what was there to be repulsed by?

When the bell rang at the end of class, the freak made a run for the door. He didn't carry himself like a normal teenage boy. He sort of glided, a little too quickly for a regular person. What was with him?

My thoughts were interrupted by an introduction. A hand extended into my line of sight, searching for a handshake over my textbook. My eyes followed the hand up an arm to a face. Mike Newton was the boy's name, and he could hold a conversation mostly by himself, to my relief. He was friendly and good-looking, and he seemed interested in getting to know me past first-day courtesy, so I was appropriately flattered as he walked me to gym.

As far as gym goes, that first class at Forks High was relatively painless. I watched Mike play volleyball from my safe, little seat to the side. He was actually a decent player. Then again, compared to me, everyone is a decent player.

The end bell for gym was also the close of the school day, so I trudged down to the office through the rain. I hoped vainly that the weather was particularly dreary on that day and I wouldn't have to reexamine my sanity for deciding to move in with Charlie. I had almost forgotten about my awkward biology class until I entered the office. Of course, my luck couldn't allow optimism.

There in the office, the only student besides me was my pale, bewildered, angered and disgusted lab partner. He was arguing with the secretary to switch him to a different biology class.

I said a little prayer that she would do it. If only I didn't have to go through another class like that first one!

At that moment, another student entered the office, breezed past me to the desk, and left again. Edward Cullen stiffened and spun around, his dark, blazing eyes piercing through me so that my hair stood on end.

I was afraid for my life, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. The prickly feeling returned to my neck, accompanied by a cold sweat. A hard lump made itself at home in my throat. A desert, my mouth. I was unsure whether to avert my eyes in surrender or meet his gaze in defiance.

The freak turned away, muttered some words of defeat to the secretary, and tore past me, through the door without another glance.

I finished my business with the office and ran through the rain to my truck.

I tried not to think of Edward Cullen as I drove to Charlie's house, but I was unsettled by the way he had looked at me. There was something unnatural… something creepy about him. And he glared at me as though I had somehow offended him to his core. I thought of myself as a nice person. I wasn't used to someone hating me, even if I deserved it, and especially when I did not.

It was so unfair! I blinked back angry tears as I thought about the injustice of having been judged so strongly and so quickly. I hadn't done anything to him! Why couldn't the freak have chosen someone else to hate? What about Jessica? She clearly had some bitterness toward him for not being interested in her. Or what about Mike? He seemed like the perfect rival and antithesis for the freak's cold beauty and prideful attitude.

No, that wasn't fair. Jessica and Mike hadn't done anything either. They had reached out to me with warmth the freak could only dream of. As unjust Edward Cullen's hatred for me was, it was not for someone else to bear.

I would have to endure it.

The freak wasn't in school the next day, and I was relieved. I didn't want to have to face him. The idea of him sitting next to me for another biology class, staring daggers at me, gave me chills. As the week passed, I was able to enjoy day after day without feeling like my life was about to end at the hands of my lab partner.

I was, however, considering taking my own life if Mike Newton didn't tone things down a notch. He was nice-he truly was, and I appreciated it-but I wasn't really interested in dating him, and he was very obviously hoping to date me.

Jessica was almost as bad. She didn't crave my attention the way Mike did, but she knew I would get other people's attention, so she kept me close at hand. In a way, I could see how our friendship would be an easy one. Jessica loved to talk, and I loved to keep my mouth shut. On the other hand, I didn't really enjoy listening to her endless babbling about boys and shopping and drama. Sooner or later, I would snap. Someone would probably lose an eye. That would _really_ start some gossip.

Of course it made sense for Edward Cullen to come back to school. All his family had remained there, and he had certainly been there longer than I-and who was I to cause some guy I didn't know to leave his own high school? I was nevertheless shocked to walk into the lunch room the Monday of the first snow in Forks since my arrival and see that he had taken up his regular seat. I almost thought the whole issue had been my imagination, his absence had nothing to do with me and he had never looked at me as one looks at something squished under his shoe, but as I stood there in the lunch line, he merely laughed with his siblings and then glanced over at me with the old, bewildered expression.

Well, I guessed it was better than blind hate.

But what was wrong with his eyes? He looked like a different person, somehow. Still eerie. But somehow… less dangerous?

I was distracted, confused. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something definitely looked different about the boy. Something strange. I lost my appetite and, pushing my uneaten lunch to the side, I joined in Mike's conversation with Eric Yorkie about hiking in the mountains, an activity I was destined never to take part in, thanks to my morbid clumsiness.


	3. Say Hello

Hello again! This chapter picks up where Chapter 2 left off, on the snow day in Forks. I am trying very hard to stay honest to the characters, taking liberties only by way of my writing style and spin on the plot, so I am sorry to say that this chapter is quite close to canon. But take heart! Things start changing in the next chapter, and after that... well, you'll just have to see! I'm going to go ahead and warn you now: Chapter 4 is going to be long.

Again, all my titles are songs recorded by the great Frank Sinatra.

And, sadly, all characters and associated materials belong to Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Say Hello**

I entered Biology cautiously, unwilling to face what I knew would be waiting at my lab bench.

The freak slouched in his chair, papers scattered in front of him. He picked at a thumbnail with an absentminded expression across his pale, stony face.

He looked… pretty normal, actually.

I warily took my seat next to him, deliberately resisting my impulse to look at his face as I scooted my chair up to the lab bench. I had a strange feeling that the freak wasn't plotting my murder today, but I was afraid to check his expression in case I was mistaken. It would only bug me if I saw hatred there, and only puzzle me more if I saw anything else. So I kept my eyes down and my mouth shut.

He was surprisingly civil.

"Hello," he said, his voice strangely lilting. "My name is Edward Cullen."

I was shocked. A proper introduction? My jaw dropped, and I hastened to shut it before he could comment on it.

"You must be Bella Swan," he continued, taking over the introduction where I had failed to do so.

How did he know not to call me Isabella, like everyone else had on my first day? Surely no one had told him; he seemed to talk with no one who could have shared that information. My mouth opened to form the question, but in my reluctance to look into his face, I had trouble asking such a direct question.

He let the conversation lapse as class began. Once I felt his attention would be adequately consumed by the teacher giving instructions for our lab, I willed myself to look at Edward Cullen.

I was sure he looked different, somehow. There was something about his features that reminded me of a cat. His eyes! His eyes were a bright, golden hue; they had been much darker before. My memory supplied a vivid image of his black glare from my first day. The darkness had been striking, lethal. Now it was a wild, deep yellow. Feline and feral. I shuddered.

We worked on our mitosis lab. It was something I had studied long before, back in Phoenix, and apparently Edward had studied it somewhere too. He checked a slide, named the phase, handed it to me, I checked it, rinse and repeat.

At some point, his hand brushed mine as he passed me the slide we were checking. It was ice cold. Granted, it had been snowing outside, and every guy in our class had had his hands stuck in the icy slush that had collected, but ten minutes had passed since we'd come inside. This guy must have no natural body heat at all. Especially considering his hand felt cold on _my_ hand, and I had minimal body heat myself. I didn't want to think about that too much.

We finished our lab in about three minutes. Most of our classmates were still working in their first slide.

"So you moved in with your dad?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered. I wasn't sure why I said anything at all. This was all town gossip, anyway, I was sure. It would probably just tick him off if I wouldn't answer questions he already knew the answers to. I guessed he was trying to make small talk. Still, it wasn't exactly something I wanted to discuss with Mr. McGlaresalot.

"Custody thing?" he pressed.

"No," I said. "My mom's a total cougar and married some hot young thing in the minor leagues, so they travel a lot and like to pretend that they don't have responsibilities like teenage children."

I hoped he got the sarcasm. I wasn't trying to be funny, exactly, but I was having trouble answering such a personal question with a direct answer. Unfortunately, while I didn't mean the answer I'd supplied him seriously, it was, as I reflected, pretty much true.

"Oh," he paused. "Not too happy about the move then?"

His question was either rhetorical, an acknowledgment of my sarcasm, or just another pry into my personal life from a guy who, as far as I knew, hated the very ground I walked on. Just in case it was the latter, I answered.

"I did what was best for Renee. I always do."

I felt guilty as soon as I'd said it. I didn't want to sound like a martyr for my mother. I had made the decision to move to Forks because I loved her and wanted to give her a chance at happiness, and it was in my power to do so-how could I be selfish and deny her that chance? I bowed my head in shame, but I pretended to be reviewing notes from my other classes.

Then Edward Cullen did the strangest thing.

He leaned toward me, for the first time, and said in a quiet, gentle voice, "You put on a good show, but I'd be willing to bet you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

I winced. Now he thought I was suffering. "It's not like that," I wanted to say. But the truth was, I _was_ suffering. And somehow I was having more and more trouble brushing off this guy's inquiries and feeding him lies. I was never a good liar anyway.

So instead of protesting, I rolled my eyes.

And instead of taking a hint, he kept talking.

"Am I wrong?" he pressed.

I tried to scrounge up a reasonable response, but nothing came. I was silent, and silence was giving me away.

"I didn't think so," Edward said at last, reorienting himself in his seat to face the front of the classroom again.

His smugness irritated me. My mouth twisted into a pout, my brow furrowed, but just as the dark cloud of fury descending in my head was pushing me toward a biting retort, the class was called to attention for the lab wrap-up. My breath came out in a great huff of frustration.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the freak tense momentarily, then relax, almost as though he had a nervous twitch.

I hoped he was nervous. I hoped he knew I was agitated by his cockiness and was fearing what I might do. I was a petite girl, but I could hold my own; once, I'd had to sucker-punch a guy in Phoenix for pinching my butt in the lunch line. I was pretty sure I could hurt the freak if he ever messed with me. Still, I got goose bumps at the thought of being alone with him. I hoped to God I would never get stuck alone with Edward Cullen.


	4. I'm Gonna Live Till I Die

Welcome back! As I promised last week, this chapter is a bit longer, and it finally starts moving away from canon a little.

All titles are from songs recorded by the great Frank Sinatra. (I even heard "It's a Lonesome Old Town" on the radio at work today!)

And of course, all characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4: I'm Gonna Live Till I Die**

I never realized how many things I had loved about Phoenix until I had to do without them in Forks. Sunshine, of course, had been the first thing I had noticed. Driving on roads not coated in ice, I realized the day after playing twenty questions with Edward Cullen, was another.

I was petrified. Hands gripping the wheel like it was the last life jacket on the Titanic, I concentrated very hard on not dying. I would have wondered how anyone managed, or why school wasn't canceled in cases like this, were my attention not completely consumed by preventing my truck from sliding off the road and into a ditch. Or a tree. Or one of my classmates.

I thought I was in the clear when I finally parked at school. With a sigh of relief, I grabbed my backpack and slung open the driver's side door. Hopping out was more difficult than I'd predicted, since my feet slid as soon as they touched ground, but I steadied myself against the body of my truck. Just as I was noticing the chains Charlie had thoughtfully installed on my tires—and reflecting on how awful the drive would have been if he hadn't, because it never would have occurred to me to use them—a piercing noise caused me to look up in alarm.

One time, when I was eight or nine, I burned my hand on a fire screen. Time had slowed, and I had watched myself hold my fingers to the blazing hot metal for what seemed like a long, agonizing minute, staring in horror at the injury I was inflicting on myself. Renee, who had seen the whole thing, said I'd ripped my hand away in an instant; it was nothing like a minute, not even a second. But the stress of the situation had slowed time for me so that I could recognize danger and react quickly.

This was nothing like that.

It all went very fast. I saw everything clearly, but nothing slowed, and I could not react.

A classmate's van was sliding, quick as fate, from a patch of ice to the spot where I stood. It was a bullet and I was its target. I was going to die.

Then, I was hit by something from behind. That was a little disorienting, as I had only been bracing for impact from the front, until I heard a voice with an unusual, musical quality and realized I was not alone.

Edward Cullen had appeared at my side with incredible speed. At first I thought I was in some sort of nightmare-first a death van and now my freak zombie lab partner? He would probably spit in my face and then dance with a giraffe and then I would wake up—but then I felt the rigid coldness of his body against me as he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to the ground.

If I hadn't been sure about the line between dream and reality at that point, the painful blow to my head when I reached the ground was pretty convincing. I appreciated that the freak had just pulled me out of the path of a two-ton vehicle on the loose, but couldn't he have tried to _prevent_ some injuries?

His arm dropped me then, and I reached out my arms to support my weight, trying to keep myself from lying directly on the icy ground. My arms gave way, jolting my chest against cold asphalt. I could see that my hands were shaking. Beyond them, Edward Cullen was pushing the massive van back, making it balance on two wheels.

I blinked. Could this be happening? My head throbbed; I reached up gingerly with a trembling hand and felt a welt forming on my scalp. Maybe I had a concussion, I thought fleetingly.

But there was little time to wonder about my head. The van was still hovering dangerously over me, and something in the back of my mind told me that my legs were in the wrong place. Before I could pull my body out of the way, Edward's arm was around me again, twisting me away from the van he was holding up. As my legs slid away, the van crashed to the ground.

A second of piercing silence followed the mayhem as I lay on the ground with the freak. He looked at me.

"Bella?" he asked, his breath surprisingly slow and measured considering his recent feats of strength. "Are you all right?"

All right? I gaped at him in horror. I tried to voice at least one of the three hundred questions whizzing through my mind. Somehow my mouth received none of them.

"I'm fine," I heard myself say.

I made an effort to wrap my head around what had just happened. Had the weirdo just saved my life? I had seen the whole thing with my own eyes, but I didn't believe it. Everything about the guy said death, death, _death_. Yet he had just pushed me out of harm's way not once but… I tried to concentrate on what I had seen… well, it had been more than once. He had held up a van with his bare hands. I didn't understand.

He was still lying on top of me when I realized how cold he was. Cold and creepy. Sandwiched between the icy ground and his equally icy form, I shivered.

"How did you do that?" I blurted out. I could have slapped myself. I hoped he wouldn't answer honestly. I really did not want to know how he had appeared out of nowhere and shoved vehicles around like toy cars.

"Do what?" he asked. I could have sworn I saw a light in his eyes flicker and fade, as though he'd realized something and chosen to ignore it.

"You… you came out of nowhere," I stammered. _Shut up_, I told myself. _Don't make him explain what a freak he is._

"I was right next to you, Bella."

Why would he lie to me like that? It annoyed me. I didn't mean to, but I shot him a look, and he knew that I was calling him out.

"Really, you must have hit your head pretty hard." He was still trying to sell the lie. Honestly, I didn't want to know the truth, but I was getting angrier and angrier that he was belittling me for the sake of his lie.

"I know what I saw," I said curtly.

He gave me a pitying look, trying to convince me I had a serious head injury that was causing confusion, but something in his feral, golden eyes gave him away. He knew he was up to something fishy. Looking into his eyes gave me a chill, and I shivered.

I wanted to argue, to show him I knew he was something bizarre, something quick and strong and deadly. But my desire to get away from him became overwhelming. Shiver followed shiver, and my teeth were beginning to chatter. I pulled away from his cold body—how could anyone feel that cold?—and noticed, to my chagrin, the crowd that was gathering around the scene of the accident.

The paramedics arrived, as did Charlie, and before I knew it, I had been wrapped up and strapped to a gurney in front of all my classmates and my father. Edward Cullen, Man of Strength, got to ride in the front of the ambulance. I seethed about the unfairness of it all until I saw Tyler Crowley, the driver of the death van; my lone injury of a bump on the head was a blessing to be counted next to his collection of gashes and bruises.

Unfortunately, Tyler seemed not to notice that I was in much better shape than he. The moment he saw me, he began apologizing profusely for almost killing me, and he didn't stop until all our tests had been run, all our x-rays taken, all our wounds bandaged, and Edward sauntered into the emergency room where we lay.

Tyler tried to shift his apologies to Edward, but the freak cut him off, saying, "No blood, no foul," and flashing a grin that brought now-familiar prickles to my neck.

My temper flared as the freak stood there, grinning smugly at the foot of Tyler's bed. Why did he get to go wherever he wished while I had to be treated like an invalid? He caught sight of my glare and chuckled.

I asked Edward accusingly why he was roaming around as a free man while Tyler and I were strapped down, and he indicated that I, too, would be free soon. As if on cue, the doctor stepped into the room and immediately I recognized him as Dr. Cullen. He was tall and bore some resemblance to a Ken doll, but he had the same blister-white skin and gold eyes as his adopted son. I could see how one might find him handsome, but I was too distracted by his alien appearance to appreciate it.

Dr. Cullen had a gentle bedside manner bolstered by genuine concern. After examining my x-rays, he said I was free to go. I hopped down from my bed, leaving Tyler and the Cullens in the emergency room as I hurried down the corridor. I would have skipped, I was so happy to leave, but the throb in my temple told me to keep it to a walk.

I was about to make my way into the waiting room when Edward caught up with me.

"Bella?" he asked, dodging between my body and the swinging doors. "Can I ask you a favor?"

I hesitated. Strictly speaking, I supposed I owed him my life. But I was afraid to consent to a favor _carte blanche_. Who knew what he had in mind? It would be something bizarre, undoubtedly, or even something sinister. I simply stared at him expectantly. He could ask me his favor, but I didn't have to agree to it.

After a pause, he realized I was waiting for his request. "Look, I know it's been a rough day, and you're probably going to want to talk it out."

I blinked at him, disbelieving. He wasn't going to suggest I talk about it with _him_, was he? That was not going to happen, given his treating me like I'd bumped my head too hard, like I didn't even know what I'd seen him do. And I _did_ know. It didn't make any sense, but I had seen him.

"I want you to be able to talk about what happened," he continued. "I just wanted to ask that, whatever you saw or think you saw, you just kind of leave me out of it."

"But why?" I demanded, indignation rising with the rush of blood to my cheeks.

"I just…" he looked uncomfortable. "I don't want the attention."

That shocked me. If he didn't want attention, why had he hated me so much when I had first shown up to school? I had figured he resented me for de-throning him as Most Gossiped About. It was a lame reason to look at someone as though you were imagining the many ways in which they could die, but it was better than no reason. And now, if he didn't like attention, I had no theories.

Besides, the freak was back to insinuating that I had hallucinated or imagined his freakish behavior.

"But why does it matter, if it's not true?" I challenged.

"Bella…" he shook his head slowly, "it wouldn't matter what I thought about you; if I told people things about you that you knew weren't true, wouldn't that bother you?"

I had to admit he was right. If he believed honestly that I was something that I wasn't, I would want him to keep it to himself. Though I believed—I knew—that he was somehow strange, he was simply asking me to keep quiet.

He watched me anxiously, his gold eyes glinting.

"Okay," I agreed at last. I had wanted to sound strong and decided, but my voice came out small.

Relief washed over his features, softening the fierce look that made me feel so uneasy.

"Thank you," he said earnestly, and he pushed open the door to the room where Charlie and half my class from school crowded, waiting to hear my story of survival, which, apparently, would not include much mention of Edward Cullen.

* * *

Charlie was relieved to see me appear through the double swinging doors.

"Oh, Bells," he sighed, placing a hand on my arm as he led me to the cruiser. "You really had me worried."

"I'm perfectly fine," I responded in a tone that I hoped expressed my consternation with all the fuss. Charlie seemed to take the hint, because he was quiet for a long time after that, even though he gave my elbow a little squeeze as he helped me into the passenger seat and gave my knee a little pat for good measure once we were on the road. Nevertheless, he eventually broke the silence as we pulled into the driveway.

"You, um…" he began sheepishly. "You need to call Renee."

I wasn't entirely surprised, but I did feel a little betrayed, and I let him know just how displeased with him I was as I grabbed the phone from the wall in the kitchen: I passed right by the refrigerator without making the slightest motion to fix him anything to eat.

"Bella?" Renee's voice came on the line. It was steeped in worry but tinged with relief.

"I'm okay, Mom," I assured her. "No broken bones, no bleeding, nothing."

"Are you sure, sweetie? Charlie said they took you to the hospital."

I rolled my eyes.

"That was just a precaution. They sent me home without so much as a Band-Aid." I took the handset and stomped up the stairs to my room.

"Well that small-town hospital was never particularly good," Renee chided. "Why, I remember when you were born, they told me you would sleep most of the time, but you cried more than you slept."

"I'm sure I slept plenty, Mom. Besides, that has nothing to do with medical skill. The hospital staff seemed perfectly competent. Dr. Cullen was cautious," I contemplated telling Renee about his advice to take some Tylenol and call him if I felt dizzy, then decided against it, "but, like I said, nothing is wrong with me."

"I'm just not sure," Renee continued. "I'd rather you just came home."

My mind flew to Phoenix. The sun, the heat, the safe roads, the good book stores… Phoenix, my home. My bedroom, outfitted with my favorite posters and shelves of favorite books. My house, empty, because Renee and her husband were in Florida.

I didn't know if Renee were asking me to return to Phoenix or to join her in Florida. Would it matter? Even Jacksonville would be better than blah, icy Forks. I almost told Renee I would do it, when I thought of Charlie. I hadn't been with him that long; I was sure he would feel hurt if I left so soon. And, without me in the kitchen, he would probably never eat another fresh vegetable.

"I'm fine here for now," I said at last. "I should at least finish up the school year before moving again, don't you think?"

"I'm sure you'd be fine, sweetie," Renee said.

That was probably true. But I wasn't worried about myself.

"It's just a few months," I replied, to reassure myself as much as Renee. "But maybe I can come visit you soon." As soon as I said it, I realized how good that suggestion sounded. I could picture myself napping in a sunny room with curtains flapping in a warm breeze wafting through an open window. That would never happen in Forks, but Jacksonville!

"Ooh!" Renee squealed. "That's a wonderful idea! You can use the money you would have spent on a car!"

She had a point. Since I hadn't had to pay a cent for my truck, I had more than enough money for a plane ticket across the country, even a short-notice fare.

"Okay," I said, absorbing some of Renee's excitement through the phone line. "I will check my assignments schedule at school and see what I can work out. If nothing else, I bet I could go for spring break."

"I can't wait!" Renee gushed. "I can show you where Phil practices and we can go to the beach… You know, there would be a lot of cute guys down here for spring break…"

I had a feeling this conversation was headed nowhere good, and the bump on my head throbbed in agreement.

"Okay, Mom, well it's been kind of a crazy day and I have schoolwork to make up." Not that I had the assignments yet. But it was true enough.

"Sure, sweetie, I understand. I'll talk to you tomorrow!"

I was a little surprised by how quickly Renee seemed to have forgotten her worry over that morning's accident, but I decided not to look that gift horse in the mouth. So, with that, we said our goodbyes.

After getting off the phone with Renee, I started thinking about how I could work in a trip to Florida. She had been quick to volunteer the money I had brought from Phoenix to buy a car, but ever since Charlie had given me the truck, it had been a comfort to me that I had a little money set aside. It could go toward college or an apartment after graduation or repairs to the truck when it finally started wearing out. I didn't really want to spend that money on a plane ticket, if I could help it. I would have to get a job.

I knew I could manage working a job and going to school. I was usually ahead of my assignments anyway, and I had studied so much of the material that I barely had to go over my notes to ace the tests. I would only have to make sure the job would leave me time to go to Florida, or else there was no point. And I would have to convince Charlie it was a good idea.

I clattered downstairs to talk to Charlie, who was parked on the couch watching a game on TV.

To my surprise, Charlie loved the idea of me having a job. By the time I was back upstairs, grabbing a few Tylenol for my head before climbing into bed for an early night, Charlie had written down the names of several places around town I could apply. It took a while to get comfortable, but I lingered pleasantly on the thought of visiting Renee in a warm climate far from gloomy Forks, and eventually I fell into an easy, dreamless sleep.


	5. Don't Worry 'Bout Me

Sorry for the delay. There was a death in my family and, while I had this chapter (and Chapter 6) written up, I couldn't bring myself to edit and post. I have, however, been making great progress in the darker, more depressing parts of the story. They are still a long way off, but if you just stick with me, I will get us all there!

A couple things to remember: All titles are songs recorded by the ever-classy Frank Sinatra. And, of course, all characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Don't Worry 'Bout Me**

Getting through school the rest of that week was easy. Nobody asked me about the incident with Tyler's van, so I didn't have to avoid telling them about Edward Cullen, Superfreak. No one even stared at me, looking for signs of injury, waiting for me to go into shock. Everyone just went on about their business as if nothing had ever happened.

...Okay, I had trouble saying that with a straight face. I am such a terrible liar!

Everywhere I went, I was watched, just in case I started to swoon. People I didn't even know followed me around. The one thing about that week that wasn't hellish was the strange fact that no one really asked about Edward's involvement. If it weren't for the inquiries about how I came out of the accident in much better shape than Tyler, I wouldn't have had to censor myself at all. As it was, my response tended to be something along the lines of, "I dunno, just lucky I guess." And no one could ask for more than that. Because, really, what other response could they have gotten? No one suspected a weirdo classmate had dashed up and held the van off me. I hardly believed it myself, and I had seen it with my own eyes!

I did at least have the presence of mind, in the midst of all the ogling and impromptu interviews, to work on Charlie's list of places to look for a job.

"Hey," I said, sitting next to Mike Newton at the lunch table. "I was wondering: does your family own-"

"Newton's Outfitters, yeah!" Mike answered proudly. "You going camping, Bella? I could get you a discount."

"Oh, I love camping!" squealed Jessica, leaning over me to give Mike an enthusiastic, though false, smile. "Maybe I should come see the store, Mike; I don't think I've been in years!"

Mike seemed not to notice Jess's subtle request for the discount. He cast only a quick glance at her before flashing me a toothy grin. "You seem like a girl who's not afraid of the outdoors."

The blood drained from my face as I imagined my total lack of coordination combined with a rustic campsite. A poorly pitched tent leaned on one side of a forest clearing riddled with stones and twigs while a campfire smoldered threateningly, having just consumed a poorly restrained scarf that had previously been wrapped around my neck. A first aid kit lay open on the ground, its contents already half-consumed. I shook the image from my head.

"Ah, no. I'm okay with the outdoors as long as I can sit still and do nothing," I said.

Mike laughed, and a few others at our table joined in. If they wanted to think I was joking, that was fine with me, but I wasn't exaggerating in the slightest.

"Actually," I continued, speaking over the laughter, "I was wondering if I could work there." Mike and Jessica stopped laughing and gawked at me. I wondered if I had asked a bad question, but it was already said; I had to commit to it.

I warily met Mike's gaze. He looked a little confused, so I clarified my question a little.

"At the shop, I mean."

"Uh… yeah," Mike mumbled. He sounded unsure, and I started to feel heat rising to my cheeks as it so often did these days, but then the crease that had formed in Mike's forehead smoothed out, and he grinned again. "Yeah, that's a great idea! I'll see if they could use you."

His initial reaction hadn't been encouraging, but I felt a little better once Mike perked up. Jess, on the other hand, was staring at me with the strangest expression. I wished fervently that she didn't think I was trying some desperate attempt at getting Mike to date me, since she clearly was after that goal already, but I couldn't see myself broaching that topic without either making her suspicious or offending her.

An awkward silence started to blanket our table, so I hurriedly mumbled, "Cool, thanks, Mike," and turned my body away from him to ask Jess if she had any plans coming up. To my great relief, she had a cousin coming to visit and was content for the duration of lunch to tell me every minute detail of what she hoped to make of the visit.

I had hoped that, by the end of the week, I might hear back from Mike about working for his parents. But he never mentioned it that week, or the week after. I began to grow impatient. The later I started work, the longer it would be before I had enough saved up to go visit Renee. Yet, every time I thought about asking him rather than waiting for him to revive the topic, I remembered the look of startled confusion on Mike's face when I had first suggested it, and I lost my nerve. I considered going by Newton's myself, but I had a feeling Mike's recommendation would be the difference between my being an applicant and my being a new employee. The first week of March, I had even found myself in a quiet moment with Mike, walking to gym from a particularly dull biology class, and I started to form the question in my mouth when he noticed I was looking at him.

"Whatcha want, gorgeous?" he'd prodded with a grin. Suddenly, I had trouble focusing on my words. I went a little cross-eyed trying to concentrate on what I had scripted for myself, but Mike found my face hilarious and the opportunity slipped away.

That night over dinner, Charlie surprised me by asking about my progress.

"So, how's the job search coming, Bells?" he asked, mouth full of potato.

"Um, well, I talked with Mike Newton about working for his folks and I've been waiting to hear back from him," I said, using a tone that made it sound like that was only the beginning rather than the entirety of my job search.

"And?" Charlie prompted.

"And, um, I was thinking of going by the library tomorrow to see if they need anyone." It was the truth, but it was only my Plan B; I had been _thinking _of going to the library, but I was mostly counting on another opportunity to talk to Mike before starting to make cold calls.

Charlie nodded enthusiastically, chewing another bite. "You'd be great at a library. All those books! What else?"

What else? I tried desperately to think of something I had done that would count as progress, or something I had been considering doing if I didn't hear from Newton's. What other places were on Charlie's list again?

"Bells?"

"I, uh… well I really was holding out for Newton's," I confessed, lowering my eyes to my half-eaten food, which was beginning to look somewhat unappetizing.

"Now, that's disappointing," Charlie said gruffly, placing his fork on his plate with a clank. He put his hands on the table in front of him and leaned forward, glaring at me intently. "I thought you were excited to get to work. Have you been too busy with school to go apply anywhere? Because if you're too busy to apply, you'll be too busy to-"

"No, I'm not too busy," I interrupted. Then, I added defensively, "Why does it matter to you anyway? It was my idea to get a job in the first place. Since when is it something I _have_ to do?"

"That's not it," Charlie said with a shake of his head. He was getting a little red in the face. "It's just not a very Bella thing to do, dropping the ball like this."

I stood up from the table and grabbed my plate, making my way to the trash can to scrape off the remainder of my dinner.

"Are you feeling okay, Bells?" Charlie asked, a little note of concern replacing the anger of his previous statement. I almost dropped my plate and fork in the trash.

"What?" I choked.

"Well, I get the feeling you aren't really happy here. You never go out with friends. All you do is schoolwork and take care of me-and I appreciate it, believe me-but now you're letting your own goals slide. I'm a little worried."

I blushed hotly.

"Dad, no! I'm not letting the job thing slide, really. I've just been set on this Newton's job; but I'm going to start looking at other places now. And I have friends, there just isn't much to do in Forks, you know?" The words came out in a rush, jumbled together with my panic and humiliation.

Charlie relaxed a little but still looked dubious.

"Okay, I trust your judgment on the job front. After all, it _was_ your idea. But I'd honestly rather see you have fun with friends, enjoy your teenage years, than see you become consumed with school, chores, _and_ a job." Charlie suddenly looked like the cat who swallowed the canary. "You know Billy Black has a kid still at home. When you used to come visit, you would play with Billy's daughters, do you remember?"

I vaguely remembered. I had no real recollection of Billy's daughter's themselves, other than the fact that they were older than I was. I frowned. I wasn't really sure Charlie's idea was going to work; just because I got along with the girls when we were kids didn't mean we were going to be good friends now. We were probably in different life stages now, with them being out of high school already.

"His girls are grown up now, moved away," continued Charlie, who had picked up his fork again and was re-assessing his plate. "But his son, Jacob, is only a little younger than you. He's a really nice kid."

I stifled a laugh. Charlie wanted me to hang out an adolescent boy as friends? Not interested. For one thing, the kid probably wouldn't look up from my chest during a conversation. He'd probably tell all his little friends he'd slept with me. And besides, what on earth could we possibly have in common?

"I don't think that's a good idea, Dad," I tried to protest. But Charlie wouldn't have it.

"Oh, sure," he said with a wave of his fork. "We'll have them over for dinner sometime. You'll see."

I could see the conversation was not going to turn in my favor, so I excused myself to do some laundry and Trig homework.

The next day, I wore a blouse over my best jeans in preparation for going to the library after school in search of a job. I didn't wear blouses much anymore, as mine tended to be short-sleeved, and weather in Forks didn't exactly permit short sleeves in March. But it was one of the most professional pieces of clothing I owned, and I wanted to look professional. I pulled on a sweater and a scarf and prepared myself to shiver all day as I drove to school.

Mike met me going into English. I pulled my sweater tight around my body, trying in vain to block out the chill. I was beyond ready for spring.

"Hey, Bella! You look really nice today."

I gave him a tight-lipped smile in response. I might have looked nice, but I was freezing!

"Got a hot date tonight?" Mike teased.

"Actually, I'm going to see about a job after school," I admitted, not meeting his gaze. Catching me off guard, Mike froze mid-stride.

"Oh, crap!" he cried so forcefully I jumped a little. "Oh, Bella," he looked at me ruefully, "I'm so sorry. I forgot to ask my parents about you working at the shop!"

"Oh, that's okay," I mumbled, feeling embarrassment and relief and excitement swirl around inside me at once.

"No, I really owe you one for that," Mike said, clearly remorseful. "I'll talk to them about that as soon as I can, okay?" He gave me an apologetic smile.

I couldn't help but smile encouragingly back.

"Okay," I said warmly, then hurried to my seat for the start of class.

The following Tuesday, I got a call from Jessica.

"Hey, Bella, what's up?" she chirped when I picked up the phone.

"Um, not much," I answered dutifully. I doubted she wanted to hear that I was actually working on a paper that wasn't due until the next week. I was sure she hadn't thought of it once since it had been assigned. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, well, actually," Jessica dithered, sounding much less sure of herself than usual, "I was wondering… have you heard about the Spring Dance coming up? It's girl-ask-guy."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I think I did see posters for that. Who are you going to ask?"

"Well, I was thinking of going with-that is, if it's okay with you-and if he says yes, of course - but I was going to ask - if he's not going with someone else - well, if he's going at all - Mike. Is that okay? I mean, were you going to ask him? Because you totally can. Well, of course you can, it's not like you need my permission-"

I laughed at Jessica's train of thought.

"No, Jess, I hadn't been thinking of asking him. You definitely should!"

"I should?" she asked, her voice crackling with excitement over the phone line. "Yeah! I will! Okay! You don't mind?"

"I don't mind; I promise," I assured her.

The next afternoon, however, it was Mike who approached me about the dance. I very politely declined. Not only did I want to avoid getting in the way of Jessica's invitation, but I shuddered at the thought of myself clumsily trying to dance in a room full of my classmates. It would be a miracle if no one got hurt, and even then my pride was sure to suffer.

Mike had seemed disappointed when I turned him down, despite the fact that he wasn't supposed to ask in the first place, so I quickly offered an excuse.

"I'm going to Seattle that day," I blurted out. It didn't sound like a bad idea, though, now that I had said it. I could find a good bookstore, take in some of the big-city atmosphere I had been missing since moving to quaint, little Forks.

I encouraged Mike to reconsider going with Jessica, which he seemed to take seriously, and I felt pretty good about the situation until I found Eric waiting at my truck after school.

What was with the gender roles at this school? Why couldn't a girls-ask dance be left up to the girls?

I gave Eric the same excuse: Seattle was calling my name! I felt awful turning down two guys in one day, but Eric took the rejection pretty well, and I climbed into my truck ready to put the whole mess behind me. As the engine roared to life and I pulled out of my parking space, Edward Cullen's Volvo cruised in front of me and came to a stop. I sighed in frustration - I just wanted to get home! For a second, I could have sworn I saw the freak looking at me in his rearview mirror; but then he shook his head, and the Volvo pulled toward to curb to wait for its passengers, leaving just enough room for me to scrape by and chug my way home.


	6. A Little Learning Is a Dangerous Thing

Last week I told you that I had split one chapter into Chapters 5 and 6. Well, after editing this week, I had to split Chapter 6 again. So Chapter 7 is basically ready for you if you all behave nicely this week. As my US readers are aware, it is a holiday on Thursday, and if I get some reviews before then, that is when I will post the next chapter!

Hopefully you are starting to see how Bella's life is straying farther and farther from what Ms. Meyer gave her!

By the way, all characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer. All titles are songs recorded by Old Blue Eyes, Frank Sinatra.

Thanks for reading, and have a happy Thanksgiving!

* * *

**Chapter 6: A Little Learning Is a Dangerous Thing**

I was a little worried that declining Eric's and Mike's invitations to the dance would make school the next day uncomfortable, but Edward Cullen did that instead.

As I headed into English (can a girl not walk to English in peace?), the freak approached me and, matching me stride for stride, started talking to me. At first I didn't know what he was talking about; his following me so carefully made me so uncomfortable that I was practically running, and all my focus was on getting to class quickly and without falling. But at some point I realized he was trying to tell me not to go to Seattle.

"What?" I spluttered, turning to him suddenly and losing my stride.

Shock shrouded his ghostly features. He seemed speechless for a moment. Then, "Will you please just find something else to do next Saturday?" His face was stony and serious.

I raised an eyebrow at him. What a random request! _Yeah, sure. Shall I have something different for dinner tonight, too?_

"Please," he repeated, gazing at me keenly with his bright, yellow eyes. I felt my mind go a little fuzzy at the intensity of his gaze, but the absurdity of his request was not lost on me.

"Why?" I challenged.

"It's… hard to explain," the freak answered. His look was intense and dark.

"Try," I urged, allowing my voice to fall flat and blunt. It sounded ruder than I normally was, but I wasn't about to restrain myself for Edward's benefit. I was already keeping secrets for him.

He glanced at the door to my English class. "You're going to be late to class," he said. "I'll explain later. I promise." And then he was gone.

I had a hard time focusing that morning. What reason could Edward Cullen have for wanting me not to go to Seattle? Why would he care? Why would he care enough to _beg_? It was perplexing. It was personal. It was so unlike him! Ever since the incident with Tyler's van, we had said barely two words to each other, and now, after six weeks, he was taking an interest in my day trips?

And not only that: he had promised to explain his request to me. _Promised_. As if his word should mean something to me. If I knew anything about the freak, it was that the day he started explaining anything to me would be the day I found him attractive. And that wasn't going to happen with his creepy eyes and corpse-white skin and disarming stares.

At least, that was how I felt until I walked into lunch, grabbing some sort of salad without paying much attention and following Jessica automatically to our usual table, when something caught my eye from an area of the cafeteria that was usually empty.

There, Edward sat alone, without a sibling or even a sign of lunch. He smiled softly at me as he caught my eye, and with a small gesture, he motioned for me to join him.

My heart thudded in my ears. I didn't want to sit alone with this guy, let alone eat in front of him. I briefly pondered pretending I hadn't seen him—I would put my tray down as usual, with my back to his table, and eat my lunch as though nothing had happened—but Jessica asked, "What does he want?" and I knew my chance to ignore him had passed.

"I don't know," I whispered to Jess through the side of my mouth, trying in vain to keep my eyes off of the James Dean-wannabe. "Should I go over there?"

"Duh," Jessica whispered back.

My mouth went dry. I looked for Angela, hoping to get a second opinion, but she was still in line at the soda machines. Drat!

I slowly turned my body back towards Edward, trying to still my shaking hands so my tray wouldn't rattle so much, and I dragged my now-leaden feet over to his table. Once there, I stood awkwardly, unsure if I should take a seat. I glanced at his face and found he was gazing at me serenely, smiling that gentle, close-lipped smile. He motioned politely for me to sit. I sat.

I stared uselessly at my salad, remembering neither why I had chosen it nor how to eat. My mind buzzed noisily, drowning out the sounds of the cafeteria, the thoughts in my head, all but my heartbeat, which was now pounding loudly in my temples. I fidgeted with my fork for several long moments before Edward spoke.

"Thank you for joining me," he said in a voice that sounded calm but gave me goose bumps.

I looked up from my salad, nodded, and managed some sort of smile in response.

He laughed a little. "Do I frighten you?" he asked, an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes were scanning me, searching for something.

"No." My voice broke, punctuating the lie.

He did not laugh at my apparent fear. He simply nodded to himself.

"I know I promised you an explanation," he sighed, "for why I asked you not to go to Seattle next weekend."

I blinked in disbelief. Should I start finding him attractive yet?

"Well, I'm sorry. I can't think of one."

Ah! Just as I expected. He wasn't going to explain a thing!

"I just have a really bad feeling about it, Bella. You know, one of those 'gut' feelings. I'd just feel awful if you went and your truck broke down or you got lost or mugged or—"

"My truck is fine, thank you," I interrupted. "And I actually _can_ navigate a city by myself. I lived in Phoenix my whole life, and I did just fine!" I glared at Edward, too offended to accuse him of misogyny or nosiness or disdain or any of the other crimes he was committing against me. His eyes went wide and his mouth snapped shut.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, averting his eyes. "I only meant to express to you how strongly I wish you would cancel your trip. I know it can't seem like it's my business…"

He had that right.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but his mouth gaped, then shut. Several moments passed in silence. I picked up my fork and stabbed a few bites of salad with purposeful severity. I chewed slowly in an effort to prolong my only distraction from Edward and his inane requests. The food was flavorless in my agitation.

Without my appetite, it seemed pointless to keep up the charade of eating lunch with the freak, so at last I gathered up my trash and started to rise.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Edward repeated, half-rising from his seat in a way that I found odd, antiquated. "This didn't go the way I imagined. But thank you for joining me." And he cocked his head in a way that was almost endearing, his strange, gold eyes shining with disappointment.

"Sure," I mumbled, striding to the trash and, finally, the exit.

I was ten minutes early to biology, and Mr. Banner wasn't even in the classroom yet. I took my time taking my seat, trying to avoid the thought that my weirdo lab partner would be showing up any minute to put the cherry on top of our oh-so-pleasant lunch together. I strolled around the room, checking out the pickled heart, the mounted butterflies, the stuffed owl. When I passed Mr. Banner's desk, I wasn't trying to read any of the papers cluttered there, but one word jumped off a page and secured my rapt attention: blood.

More specifically, a heading: Blood Typing Lab Exercise.

A little panicky feeling swelled in my stomach, joining the anxiety and agitation still swimming there from my little lunch date. I scanned the page for details. Maybe Mr. Banner's Senior class would be blood typing, not ours. But there was an entire stack of papers bearing this heading, and every one had a Junior's name scrawled along the top.

Well, my day just got better and better!

I started looking around for any sign of where Mr. Banner had gone. I needed him to excuse me from the lab! Maybe he was in the teacher's lounge—teachers got lunch, right?—it was odd realizing I had never thought of Mr. Banner eating lunch before. I ran out of the classroom and headed for the teacher's lounge. To my great relief, I found him leaving the lounge, jangling a huge set of keys in his hand.

"Mr. Banner!" I exclaimed, a little louder than was generally acceptable during a class period.

"Miss Swan," my teacher replied, clearly surprised to see me. "Can I help you?"

"The lab today," I puffed, still a little winded from rushing to the lounge, "is it blood typing?"

"Why, yes!" he exclaimed, pleased but still surprised.

"And will there be… real blood?" I asked, looking into his face with bare trepidation. Understanding washed over his features.

"Oh, yes, Miss Swan," Mr. Banner said in a disappointed sort of tone. "Is that… a problem?"

I nodded. As I opened my mouth to explain—the smell would make me dizzy; I would pass out; there might be some regurgitated salad—the bell rang. Mr. Banner frowned and started walking toward a room I had never seen used before, clutching his keys.

"Are you sure you won't be able to do it? It's a really great lab. I'm not sure if I'll be able to find an alternative assignment…" He unlocked the door, revealing a closet full of boxes and bottles.

"You can give me a zero for the lab, Mr. Banner, but either way, I won't be able to do it."

He was pulling out boxes of pointy, metal things and white cards marked with grids. He was rushing, and I felt bad for distracting him, but it was better to send me out of the class now, while I was conscious, than to wait.

"All right, Miss Swan," he said, exhaling. "I guess you can just go on to study hall or something." He juggled his pile of boxes. "Come get me if you need a note." And with that, my teacher carried his lab supplies off to class.

I was left there, in the corridor, without a note or even much direction. My first impulse was to go to study hall, as Mr. Banner had suggested. But they wouldn't be expecting me in study hall, and I would have to explain to them the embarrassing story of how I couldn't even _try_ to do a blood lab and how Mr. Banner hadn't been able to think of any constructive way to use my time. And then I would be stuck in study hall, where I couldn't do homework, because I had none, and I couldn't goof off with the kids who weren't doing homework, because I wasn't social enough. I would end up reading my English Lit book or something, and I would get labeled as the over-achieving, fainting, biology-skipper, which would go well with my current title of New Girl Who Almost Got Squished in the Parking Lot. It would be better to just take a nap in my truck.

So that was how, a few minutes later, I found myself walking through the misty parking lot to my truck when the door to a nearby car popped open, and a mellow voice called my name.

I turned instinctively, wincing inwardly as I recognized the voice and then the silver Volvo that had issued it.

Edward Cullen stuck his head out into the rain, his face crinkled in puzzlement. I approached his car reluctantly, trying to think up the quickest way to excuse myself without mentioning my weak constitution. But as I neared the car, a soothing, familiar melody met my ears, a stark juxtaposition with the freak's cold nature.

"'Clair de Lune?'" The question was out before I even had time to say hello or worry about his questioning my absence from class.

"You know Debussy?" he asked, a close-lipped, crooked smile adding an element of amusement to his puzzled expression.

"Uh… well, yeah. My mom… she loves this song."

Edward nodded, looking over his dashboard. "She has good taste. It's musically perfect." In his lap, his fingers twitched a little in time with the music.

There was a pause while we both listened, and I remembered Renee setting the table, twirling around our dining room chairs as the piece played in the background. The memory made me feel warm and at ease, and I didn't mind that my hair was getting damp and sticking around my face and neck. I could see Renee smiling at me. It was incredible how much I missed her!

In time, the piece ended, a new one came on, and Edward and I both seemed to awaken from our trances at once.

"What are you doing out here?" we spoke in tandem. If we had been in first grade instead of eleventh, we would have raced to shout "Jinx!" first. But Edward chuckled instead.

"I cut class sometimes," he said with a shrug.

"Really? You don't seem like the type."

"Neither do you," he replied with a significant glance. When I didn't answer right away, he returned his gaze to his windshield, which was translucent with thousands of tiny droplets of rain. "You didn't come right out here from lunch."

"No, I uh…" I stumbled over my excuse. "I asked Mr. Banner if I could sit out the lab."

Edward turned and stared at me, his eyes flashing with amusement or confusion or disbelief.

"Why?" he asked with such bewilderment that I couldn't help answering.

"It's a blood lab," I replied, hoping he would draw his own conclusions and excuse me from elaborating. No such luck.

"You… have problems with blood?"

Why did he look for all the world as though he were stifling laughter? I bristled a little.

"Yes," I answered coldly. He was visibly trying to compose himself, either because of the warning in my tone or because he did have some sense of propriety. Lots of people faint at the sight of blood; I didn't see what could be so funny about that.

The freak swallowed, caught sight of my glare, and looked down.

"I apologize," he said, looking me in the eye again to show me he meant it. His face went blank, then remorseful. "I don't know why I thought that was funny. You, uh – you get sick?"

"If I don't pass out first," I admitted, knowing my ears were red for sure, and probably my face, too.

"Even at the sight of your own blood?" His eyes glittered again, but his face remained straight.

"It's the smell, actually. But yes, even my own."

Edward looked down for a moment, and I thought I could see his facial muscles twitch, but his expression was neutral when he looked up.

"Well, then I guess it's good you didn't go," he said, and I realized how lucky I had been to have that uncomfortable lunch with him. If I hadn't left lunch early, there's no telling how badly class would have gone.

Neither of us said anything then, and I began to shift my weight from foot to foot, wondering how I could segue into my goodbye. Edward had one foot on the ground, leaning halfway out of the car. Water droplets collected in his fashionably messy hair. His car stereo still expressed soothing music, but I was feeling uneasy again.

Edward looked up at me. His brow creased. "You're getting soaked. You'll make yourself sick."

He paused, thinking of something, and I was about to say, "Thank you, Captain Obvious. That is probably due to the rain I'm standing in," but then the freak disappeared into his car, leaning across the seat to unlock the passenger-side door.

"Why don't you get in out of the rain?" he asked, reappearing in the driver's seat in front of me. He looked right into my eyes, and my train of thought de-railed. My brain was so fuzzy, I almost walked around the car and hopped in, but I caught myself.

"Um, actually, I was just going to take a nap before gym," I said, relieved to have found my opportunity to leave.

Edward smiled. "Sleep sounds good," he agreed with a nod. "I'll see you later, then."

"Bye," I replied, turning toward my truck and realizing too late that I didn't have an alarm to wake myself for gym and would have to read out of my lit book after all.

There had been talk of going to the beach that weekend, because the weather was supposed to be nice for the first time in months. Mike made a point of mentioning it in gym just after he informed me that he had asked his parents about me working for them. He neglected to tell me what their answer had been, however, and instead began insisting that I join the weekend excursion. I tried to steer him back to the subject of work, but class began before Mike had exhausted his enthusiasm for the beach.

That night, I searched my room and the CDs in Charlie's living room for any album that might have Debussy on it. The closest I got was the soundtrack to _Phantom of the Opera_.


	7. Sand and Sea

I meant to get this up earlier this week, but our Christmas tree took the outlet I usually use for the computer and I had to rearrange!

One of your favorite characters appears in this chapter. My gift to you! And one of my favorite chapters is coming up soon, so be sure you stay tuned. Big thanks to those of you who have been adding me to your favorites or alerts. I like knowing you're into the story!

You know the drill: all titles are songs recorded by Frank "Let It Snow" Sinatra, and all characters and associated material belong to Stephenie "Don't Hate Me Because He Was In My Dreams First" Meyer.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Sand and Sea**

That Saturday, we all met up at Newton's Olympic Outfitters to carpool down to First Beach. Since Mrs. Newton had given Mike the green light for me to come apply for a spot at the store, I arrived a bit early. It was before the store's posted hours of business, but the front door was unlocked. A friendly bell heralded my entrance.

"Good morning," chirped a woman's voice from somewhere behind the register. I looked for the source of the voice, but saw nothing but an empty counter.

"Um… hello?" I said loudly so my voice would reach wherever the woman was. Just then, an attractive, round-faced woman bobbed up behind the cash register.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I thought you would be one of our regulars." She put down a dust cloth and eyed me carefully. Smiling, she stuck out a well-manicured hand. "Bella Swan?"

I nodded, accepting the handshake. Mike must have told her about "Isabella;" maybe he was smarter than he looked!

"I'm Karen Newton, Mike's mom." She grinned. "So you're looking for a job, hon? I think we could use some extra help around here. Mike used to be in here a lot, but he's had more homework this year, and I'm starting to realize how much he helped out!"

Mrs. Newton rummaged through a stack of papers on a stark, wooden table behind the counter.

"Ah! Here it is!" She handed me a single sheet of paper. At the top, the words "Application for Employment" were marked in purple, fuzzy script. I stared at the application, not believing what I saw. The whole page was _mimeographed_. Who used that kind of technology anymore? Mrs. Newton gave me an apologetic smile.

"We don't take a lot of applications," she said, excusing the paper with a wave of her hand. "You can use my pen, here," she said, gesturing to the counter, "or you're welcome to take it home."

I scanned the application. Aside from my name, phone number, and address, there wasn't really a lot of information to give. There was a small box for previous work experience and another box for education. No mention of background checks, references, or a social security number.

"I can go ahead and do this while I'm waiting for the others, Mrs. Newton," I said, pointing at the empty parking lot with the pen and bending over the ancient application.

"Oh, you're going to the beach, too, then!" Mrs. Newton exclaimed. "That will be fun! Have you been to First Beach before, Bella?"

I nodded as I scribbled out all my contact information.

"Yes, but it was years ago," I said. "My dad used to take me."

"Oh… Did you live with Chief Swan then?" She was trying to recall if she should have remembered me as a child.

"No, I would just visit in the summers," I answered, looking up from my work experience box to give her an encouraging smile. The little crinkle that had formed between her well-groomed eyebrows faded.

"Well it's a shame you and Mikey didn't know each other back then. You seem to get along very well now!"

I felt myself begin to blush, so I kept my head low and pretended to concentrate very hard on the end of my application, giving a noncommittal "Mmhmm" to avoid what would have become an awkward silence.

After lingering over the application an extra moment to let Mrs. Newton's last sentence fade from the air, I handed it back to her. No one had arrived in the parking lot yet, so I asked Mrs. Newton to give me a tour of the store.

She was obviously very proud of the family business. While she didn't strike me as the outdoorsy type, she knew everything there was to know about every piece of equipment in the place. The aisles were not only kept in meticulous order, but they featured attractive displays over which Mrs. Newton had clearly had an influence. Pointing here and there, she drew my attention to things that would be my responsibility if I worked there.

By the end of the tour, "You would" had changed to "You will." "You will want to check that these don't get out of order," she was saying. I had gotten the job.

The friendly chime rang as the door swung open.

"Hey, Mom, is Bella in here?" Mike called.

"I'm here, Mike," I answered, just spotting the top of his head over a rack of cane poles. I turned to thank Mrs. Newton.

"You go have fun, hon," she said, catching me off guard by folding me into a hug. She smelled like hairspray and fabric softener. "Come in after school Monday and we'll work up a schedule. It was so nice to meet you!"

"It… It was nice to meet you too!" I stammered, and I went out to the parking lot with Mike.

The ride to First Beach was a little awkward. First, Mike was not very subtle about wanting me to sit next to him. Jessica was, in turn, not very subtle about being mad at me for sitting next to Mike, so I had to squeeze her into the seat between us. Mike was not very subtle about the seating arrangement being less than he'd hoped for. And Lauren was not very subtle about being a &*%#. By the time we got to the beach, I was so tired of all the conflict that I was keen to go back home at any time.

In an effort to not be the Shy New Girl Who Gets All the Boys' Attention and Then Pouts and Has No Fun at the Beach, however, I did agree to go on a little exploration hike to some tide pools with the group. I had always enjoyed the tide pools as a kid; something about the complexity of a world so much smaller than mine really fascinated me. I loved complexity. I could use more of it in my life. I did scrape a palm when I tripped on the rocky shore, but I managed to make it back to the campfire without needing emergency care.

As I approached the crackling driftwood fire, I noticed some boys from the nearby reservation had shown up. They were tall and lanky, with silky, black hair and warm brown skin. The smallest one, probably no more than fourteen, surprised me by introducing himself in a familiar way.

After calling me Isabella, and accepting my curt correction, he extended a hand.

"I'm Jacob Black. You bought my dad's truck," he said with a hopeful little smile.

"Oh, Billy's son! Jacob!" I exclaimed, hoping it wasn't too obvious that I didn't exactly remember him. I knew Billy, of course, but I remembered his daughters-Rachel and Rebecca-better than I did his son. "How are you?"

An attractive grin split across his face.

"Good! I wasn't sure you'd remember me. We didn't spend much time together, you and me…" he rubbed the back of his neck with a disproportionately large hand. It reminded me of a puppy's paws, big paws on a bony, little thing. "My sisters are moved out; it's just me and my dad these days. We see Charlie a lot, though. Used to see him a couple times a week before you showed up!" He faked a scowl as though I had taken a treat from him.

"Sorry," I laughed. "I'll be sure and send him your way more often."

Jacob nodded appreciatively, gazing at the ground.

"Or we could come visit him, you know, at his house." He peered at me from under his dark eyebrows. He was flirting with me! How cute. I wondered if he had ever gotten past flirting with a girl before. Not that I was all that experienced, myself.

"Yeah," I answered, hoping I wasn't being too encouraging by agreeing to a visit. Jacob was little more than a kid. He still had that awkward gangliness of his early teens. He probably thought of me as an "older woman." But it felt good to have someone in Forks I knew, even if I didn't actually remember him. "You could come over for dinner. I usually cook for him."

"I know!" Jacob exclaimed with a knowing wink. "Everybody's glad of that, truuust me."

"Did he eat at your house before?" I asked, a little surprised. Charlie had never mentioned having a home-cooked meal other than his "hard-cooked" fried eggs and "crispy" bacon, which, to anyone else, weren't so much hard-cooked and crispy as burned and inedible.

"Oh, not a whole lot. But we sure never ate at _his_!" He laughed, his teeth shining white against his russet skin. "No, I think he worked through dinner most of the time. And well… We don't go into Forks a lot, but I've seen his cruiser parked at the diner down the street from the station more than once."

I had to smile to myself. That seemed like Charlie, all right.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, my mind drifting back to Jacob's introduction at the mention of cars. "Tell your dad I really appreciate the truck. It's amazing."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Amazing? Well I never thought of it quite that way," he laughed, "but I'll pass the message along. We did a lot of upkeep on that thing. If he were still able to drive it, I'm sure he wouldn't have let it go."

"You worked on it, too?" I asked, impressed.

"Oh yeah," Jacob answered, matter-of-fact. "Probably more than he did, these past few years. I have a project car, too, but it's tough getting parts without spending a lot of money." His boyish face was honest, not bragging.

"What kind of car is it?" I asked.

"A 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit." His eyes went unfocused, wistful. He was distracted just thinking about it. I couldn't imagine being that in love with a car!

"That's… cool," I said uncertainly. I had no idea what a Rabbit was, but it didn't sound very cool at all.

And just like that, Jacob was off in his own little world, talking a mile a minute about master cylinders and MPG and PSI and WHP. My mind, meanwhile, was chanting, "WTF?" After a very long discussion about combustion (in which my share of the conversation consisted solely of nodding periodically), Jacob breathed a happy sigh.

"How are you liking Washington so far?" he asked in a complacent tone.

"It's… cold," I answered plainly.

"Well, yeah," Jacob answered, his dark eyes crinkling in amusement. "We're pretty far north. But cold is okay; you just wear more layers."

"I moved from Phoenix," I reminded him. "I don't have any layers. At least, none with sleeves." His eyes roved over my body, verifying what I said with the sight of my cobbled-together outfit on a day of "nice" weather. To my surprise, his eyes did not linger overlong on my chest. This kid was turning out to be more agreeable than I thought!

"Hmm, yeah, I see what you mean," Jacob said with a pensive expression. Then, suddenly, he started pulling his sweatshirt over his head.

"Here." He stretched the wad of black fleece toward me with one oversized hand.

"What?"

"Take it. You need more layers." He reached the sweatshirt even farther. I could vaguely smell a spicy, woodsy scent wafting from him.

"No," I protested. "I'm fine. The weather's getting nicer and…" As I scrambled for excuses, I noticed the gray clouds overhead. The weather was on Jacob's side.

"Bella," Jacob said, raising his eyebrows, "are you cold?" He knew I would have to say yes. The moment the word "cold" escaped his lips, I could feel the mist of the Pacific Ocean on my neck. I suppressed a shiver and met his gaze sheepishly. He shook the shirt at me for emphasis.

"Oh, fine," I grumbled, taking the warm fleece from him and pulling it on. I glared at him and shook my hair out. "You happy?"

Jacob leaned back on his heels, folding his arms across his loose-fitting, short-sleeved shirt. He rubbed his bare arms and smiled, eyeing his accomplishment with relish.

"Yep," he replied. "What about you? Isn't it nice to know that, if you ever get cold, I can warm you up?"

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. As my mouth hung open wordlessly, Mike and Jessica returned from their little foray to the local general store.

"Bella, you ready to go?" Mike asked, placing a hand on my shoulder but looking at Jacob as he spoke.

"Oh, sure," I said warmly, but pulling away from his grasp. "Er… Mike, this is Jacob Black, a friend of the family." I gestured weakly.

Jacob reached a large hand forward.

"We go way back," Jacob said, shaking Mike's hand. He smiled, but the warmth of his earlier grins was absent.

"Nice to meet you," Mike replied, smiling the same empty smile. "C'mon, Bella."

"Well, uh, bye, Jacob. I guess I'll see you around," I mumbled, starting to wriggle back out of the sweatshirt.

"Keep it," Jacob said, and his voice was low and serious. "I'll see you soon anyway." His eyes were on Mike, who had his back turned to us and was gaining distance.

"Thanks," I whispered.

I waved goodbye to Jacob and headed back to the SUV. Jessica was hinting at riding up front for the ride home, and I took the opportunity to ride in back, where I could tune out Jess's incessant chatter. I leaned my head back on the seat and let my mind relax, sleepily replaying the highlights of the day: the warm sunshine of the morning; the quiet peace of the tide pools; and the beautiful, innocent laughter of Jacob Black.


	8. Just Friends

This little snack is not so much a chapter as the first part of the next installment of the story. I wrote Chapter(s) 8/9 when I first came up with the idea for _Old Devil Moon_, and having now returned to it chronologically, I am doing all kinds of editing; this is really time consuming because the chapter has grown on me and I want it to be perfect. But it's not fair for you to wait, and since this chapter is pretty long, I have decided to go ahead, split it, and give you part one.

This leaves you with one short mini-chapter before Chapter 9, which I will hopefully be ready to post before Christmas, and it is my Christmas wish that this will tide you over! I think you will know by the end of reading this mini-chapter what happens in the next chapter, and I hope you are as excited about Chapter 9 as I am!

The usual notes: Titles are songs recorded by Frank "White Christmas" Sinatra. All the jolly characters and very merry associated material belong to Stephenie "Your Tree Isn't the Only Thing Sparkling" Meyer.

Here's to you, dear readers! I raise a glass of wassail to you and wish you and yours all the joy and peace of your winter holidays, whichever they may be. Thank you for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 8: Just Friends**

Monday morning, I awoke early to beautiful, golden sunshine pouring in my bedroom window. I threw on my clothes, ran a comb through my hair, and ran outside to savor it.

Sunshine! All my negative feelings about Forks seemed to melt away in its cheerful glow. Nothing is ever so scary in sunshine. It's hard to be sad on a bright, sunny day. And so the gloomy forests seemed lush and green; darkened hollows were merely shadows under the shelter of leaves. It was even a bit warmer than it had been, though not so warm that I would leave the jacket at home.

I took my time driving to school, but I still got there well before class would start, so I decided to sit at one of the picnic tables in the sun and review my Trig homework to pass the time. I was pretty sure I'd done the problems right, but there are always those pesky "careless mistakes" I would lose credit for. I was on my second page when Mike Newton dropped into the seat opposite mine.

"Morning!" he chirruped, a bite of breakfast still in his cheek. I glanced up from my homework.

"Hey, Mike," I said, wanting to be friendly but not really wanting to lose concentration in the middle of the problem I was checking. I bent farther over my notebook and tapped my pencil against _pi_, both to jog my memory about the step I was on and to illustrate to Mike that I was working. He did not take the hint.

"I never noticed before - your hair has red in it," Mike observed, reaching across my Trig to tug gently on a wayward strand.

I started to explain that it was an effect of the rare sunshine when we were both distracted by a loud cracking noise from the woods behind the school. Our conversation took an attentive pause as we stared toward the source of the noise. My mind slipped from the sunny day, the math homework, the blond boy sitting at my table, and slunk into the shadows of the woods, where heavy objects lay covered in green moss, where something sturdy was breaking… It was dark in there, and I couldn't really see anything, but somehow I felt like I was being watched. A little chill rolled up my arms.

"Huh," Mike said at last. "I guess a dead branch fell or something."

"Something," I echoed absently, looking from the woods to Mike to my notebook. I blinked.

"You got a lot of homework?" he asked, finally noticing that I had been busy. "I was thinking I should take you to this restaurant, you know, as a study break."

I put down my pencil. So much for being studious.

"Um, actually," I bit my lip; I had never had to decline an actual date before. Telling everyone I wasn't going to the dance was one thing, but how was I supposed to make excuses for a general invitation to dinner?

"You busy tonight?" he pressed.

"I'm supposed to go by your parents' store after school and get a schedule set up," I said.

"Aw, you can skip that!" Mike moaned.

"You want me to skip my first day?" I questioned, injecting as much incredulity into my tone as I could. "But you know, Mike, if you're just hoping for someone to take to dinner tonight, you can ask Jessica. I think she's free."

Mike seemed surprised by my suggestion but did not protest. The bell rang then, and I gathered my wits and my books and headed to class.

At lunch, the girls decided that a shopping trip to Port Angeles was in order. Jessica and Angela both wanted new dresses for the upcoming dance, and while I would need no dress, they needed another opinion, so the invitation was extended to me. I agreed, wanting to see more of Washington than sleepy Forks; and while I knew I would get to see Seattle while everyone else was curling their hair and applying lip gloss for the dance, a little foray closer to home sounded like a good warm-up trip.

Jess was pushing hard for us to run up to Port Angeles that night, but I was reluctant. I had to go by Newton's after school, I told her, and while that brought a scowl to her face, she conceded that we would have to wait and see how long my meeting with Mrs. Newton took before we could know if going out of town that evening were even possible.

But Jessica's disappointment, and our indecision, would not last long.

When I got to the Newtons' store, Mrs. Newton was on the phone.

"Okay, Mikey," she cooed into the receiver. "You and Miss Jessica go have fun. You kids work so hard!" She paused. "No, no, honey, I've got her," she said, looking up at me and giving me a grin that reminded me strongly of her son. "Yes, I'll be sure and tell her. Okay. You too! Muah!"

Hanging up, Mrs. Newton smiled at me and said, "That was Mikey on the phone. He's getting dinner with a friend - Oh! You know Jessica! Well, he and Miss Jessica needed a little break, so he won't be here this evening. But he said to tell you that Jessica said she is going shopping tomorrow, okay, hon?"

"Okay," I said, glad to have that settled. "Thank you."

"Sure thing," she replied. "Now, I made up a little schedule for you, but you can let me know what works for you and what doesn't." She started penciling in changes without waiting for me to say anything. "Now," she muttered to herself, "you'll want tomorrow off…" She turned to me. "Do you want to work at all on the weekends? I don't have you and Mikey working together, but if you want some Saturday hours, we could sure use you. Business is going to pick up in this warm weather."

"I think Saturdays will be fine for me," I said, mentally calculating what my weekly earnings would be, leaving time to study for tests and write papers.

"Okay," Mrs. Newton said, scribbling on her little calendar, "but let's have you work a couple of weeks on slow days before we throw you to the wolves, hm?" She smiled and gave me a little wink. I nodded and smiled back, but I started to wonder if this were the best place for my first job. I knew very little about outdoorsmen and sporting goods and even less about retail. What did she mean about throwing me to the wolves? Surely they didn't get that much business in their location… right? But before my nerves could get the better me, I was out the door and on my way home, a schedule of my new work hours in the passenger seat of my truck.

And then... Tuesday.


	9. Downtown

Dear readers,

Last night I had a dream that I met Robert Pattinson.

Now, I actually like Pattinson - I'll even call him Rob - I like Rob. But I don't much care for his Edward, and my Twilight collection (Thanks, Santa!) has a notable lack of Rob's face anywhere on or about it. I'm down with Lautner's Jacob, and while I don't think highly of Stewart's acting, she is a good enough Bella for me. But those people weren't in my dream. Rob was. He wasn't pale and brooding, all Edwardy, but he very kindly spoke with an American accent for me (which is Edward-like in several ways), and somehow this little vision put the seal on Chapter 9.

And so, here we are! My favorite chapter so far! It's also the longest chapter yet (especially if you consider Chapter 8: Just Friends was actually part of this chapter), so get settled in for a few.

Of course, all titles are songs recorded by Mr. Frank Sinatra; all characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer (who dreamed of Edward, NOT Robert Pattinson!); and all thanks belong to you!

* * *

**Chapter 9: Downtown**

_And then, Tuesday._

I had a fluttery feeling from the moment I woke up. Something had bothered me in my sleep, and the uneasiness that plagued my sleep leached into my consciousness. I felt as though I had been cold, or dreaming of being cold, and I awoke with a shiver. Though the sunshine had decided to stay one more day, I couldn't feel its bright warmth as I drove to school. My fingers tingled on the steering wheel. My eyes squinted in complaint against the sun I used to see so often in Phoenix. I didn't feel like anything was wrong, exactly - just weird. It was like there was electricity in the air, floating around, waiting for something out of the ordinary to happen and then it would strike like lightning and turn the world upside-down.

Jessica was waiting to catch me before class and make sure the shopping trip was still on for that evening. All she needed was a nod from me before launching into a full monologue about her date with Mike the night before. I let her talk, both because it was suicide to interrupt Jessica when she wanted to talk about herself and because I hoped she would distract me from my fluttery feeling. But the only respite I felt all day was in biology.

The Cullens had been out of school since sometime the week before, and I had my lab bench all to myself. While a relief to not find the freak waiting for me each time I had entered the lab, I had taken that little peace for granted. This time, with my nerves tight and anxiety buzzing through me like a caffeine jolt, I felt a measure of stress whoosh out of me the moment I saw the empty seat in the lab. For an entire hour, I let myself become absorbed in my work and ignored the electricity surrounding me, the lightning storm waiting to happen. It was the best biology class I'd had since the time in second grade when we had watched a butterfly emerge from its chrysalis. I heard every word Mr. Banner said, took faithful notes, and left the classroom feeling like I had not only learned a lot but also enjoyed the experience.

Jessica followed me home from so we could take her car to Port Angeles together. While my anxiety had not returned to its earlier, heightened state, the calm I had experienced in biology had disappeared as suddenly as it had come; P.E. had been as torturous as usual, and it was followed by the hustle of getting up to Port Angeles before dark. So I was glad to let Jessica carry the conversation for the duration of the drive. While she talked about her date with Mike, her hopes for the upcoming dance, and what sort of dress she wanted, I tried not to think about the tingles radiating down my arms and the buzzing in my ears. I was doubly glad when we picked up Angela; Jessica's babbling grew more mellow, less frenzied as our duo became a small group. I took the back seat and let the conversation take its slower pace.

The electricity in the air, on the other hand, gained intensity. It started to worry me that I was feeling so anxious. Was I just agitated by the run-of-the-mill chit-chat going on? I supposed that was possible, but then I would expect to feel less anxious, less agitated in the mellower atmosphere. Was it because I disliked shopping, particularly disliked dress shopping, and especially did not enjoy dress shopping for an event I was not even to attend?

The girls found their full ensembles for the dance more quickly than we had expected, and we all decided to walk to a little Italian restaurant by the water. A fresh rush of goose bumps suggested that I try walking a few minutes without Angela and Jessica, so I made a suggestion.

"Do you mind if I run down to the book store for a minute while you put your bags in the car?" I asked, trying to sound upbeat but still somewhat indifferent. "I've been meaning to check it out, but this is the first time I've been up here."

I must have sounded like a little kid getting excited over seeing a pinwheel for the first time or something, judging by the look on Jessica's face, but after an awkward pause, the girls decided that it would be okay to meet at the restaurant in half an hour or so.

"Are you sure you don't want us to go with you?" Angela asked, despite the hard look Jessica gave her.

"Sure. I'll be fine." Maybe I would wind down a little. I could imagine myself already, perusing shelf upon shelf of books in complete silence. How could I not relax in that atmosphere? And with that thought, I set off in the direction of the book store.

I had hoped that my anxiety would lessen once I was alone, but as I walked, block after block, it only seemed to get worse. After a time, I came to the shop and found, to my disappointment, that it was a new age bookstore. There probably weren't any cookbooks in there - at least not the kind with ideas for dinners I could make for Charlie - and I doubted they would have any novels I would like, either. I wondered if any of the other shops in the area would have something I might like, and I looked up and down the street. The sun was starting to set, but I still had more than enough time to look around before heading for the Italian place for dinner. And, I reasoned, I was a working girl now; I wouldn't have much time to do things like this anymore. I might as well take my freedom while I had it. I headed farther down the street, away from the bay and my friends and the tourists, hoping to find a less alternative bookstore or a hobby store or _something_ worth exploring.

I had no idea that all my goose bumps, chills, and prickles, the thunderstorm I had felt coming on, were all a warning of what lay waiting for me in an alley at the end of a half-hour wandering through the ever-darkening streets of Port Angeles.

And there, caught in the sights of four men who were so clearly enjoying taunting me as a spider plays with its prey before it goes for the kill, I realized how foolish I had been to ignore what my body had been telling me all day. _Run_, my brain had been urging. _Run, Bella, run!_

And as I tried to weigh my odds of survival if I stood my ground and fought against the miscreants or if I turned and ran (which, given my coordination, seemed like the losing bet), a flash of light and the squeal of tires burst into the alley. A silver Volvo stopped next to me. The door flew open.

I could not have dreamed up a more terrifying scenario. Lost in a strange city, stalked by some unsavory characters, cornered into a fight-or-flight situation, and now… Edward freaking Cullen.

I was so relieved to be rescued from the creeps in the alley that I _almost _obeyed the voice from the Volvo without hesitation. _Almost_.

"Get in," the voice growled, with as much malice as the scruffy drunkard who had been about to rape and kill me. For all I knew, that's what this boy had planned. Still, the odds of anyone fingering him when I showed up dead were much higher than ever suspecting the random strangers from another town. Oh, I hesitated all right, but ultimately I decided to get in the car. In an instant, we were out of the alley and blazing through town.

Perched in the passenger seat, I clutched the door handle tightly, expecting that, at any moment, he would pull over someplace dark and carry out whatever evil plans were lurking behind those bright yellow eyes. I peeked at his face, just visible in the faint dash light, hoping and praying to find anything but bitter hatred there. No such luck. His lips were like stone, pressed tightly into a line over his frightening teeth. His eyes were tight with fury, his brow furrowed. Finally, the moment I had been waiting for came. The car pulled onto the shoulder of the dark, deserted road and stopped.

I peered out through the windows in alarm. Surely we weren't anywhere near Forks. Would they ever find my body here? Was there anyone nearby who would see? Anyone to hear me scream? Perhaps if I struggled a bit, there would be some forensic evidence left in his car. I checked to see if he were watching, and I tried to touch my hair inconspicuously. If he didn't look up from the steering wheel, maybe I could yank out a few hairs without him noticing. If he touched me, maybe I could rationalize some wild movement that would draw blood. I hear blood makes great evidence. Then again, I would probably pass out. While not entirely sure that I wanted to be conscious while he had his way with me, I was sure that my chances of survival increased greatly if I remained conscious. So, no blood.

The pity was, some girls would probably love to be in this situation. I doubted even Jessica would shy away from the idea of the freak having his way with her in his car. She thought he was gorgeous. Though she had never said as much, I bet she thought he was a good kisser, too.

But I was not one of those girls. I couldn't quite explain it, but I sensed death in his perfect, pale skin. Danger in his sparkling, white teeth. Menace in his golden eyes – his haunting, cold eyes. How could anyone think of those thin, white lips pressed to theirs? They looked like the lips of a corpse. I shuddered at the thought.

A tense moment passed in silence. I waited for the freak to turn to me, to reach for me, to begin his attack. But his eyes were shut, fingers pinched to the bridge of his nose as if he had a migraine coming on. At last he spoke.

"Bella?" he growled, his voice low and strained. "Are you okay?"

The words were familiar, and a rush of memory came with them. The freak had asked the same question after saving me from Tyler Crowley's death van. The question seemed more dire now, as if it cost him a great deal of energy just to ask it. But I was too gripped with fear to find the breath to answer. I said nothing, and Edward kept one hand at his eyes, gripping the steering wheel with the other until his knuckles shone even whiter.

He took a labored breath.

"Bella," he asked again, "please…" He paused, grinding his teeth. "Say something to distract me. Anything."

I wanted to ask him from what, exactly, he needed to be distracted. If it were my inane stupidity that infuriated him, I probably shouldn't start talking about something too random, reiterating how little sense my mind makes sometimes. If he were disgusted by my having left my friends to wander all alone in a strange town, I shouldn't say anything about my friends at school, giving him an excuse to mock the so-called friendship. If he hated my-

"Bella!" he roared my name, snapping his eyes to my face, letting the hand drop from his brow and return to the wheel. I completely lost my train of thought, entirely consumed by fear. His eyes were blazing and terrible. His whole body shook with fury. His mouth twisted and, with acidity, he shouted, "_I need you to say something. NOW!_"

I was too terrified to choose a topic. My mouth responded by reflex, and somehow I produced, in no more than a whisper, "I'm supposed to go visit my m- mother soon."

Immediately I could tell this was the right thing to say. The freak's frame relaxed a tiny, but perceptible, amount. A muscle in his face twitched.

My heart pulsed and pounded in my temples. My breath came in sharp, painful gasps.

"Go on," the voice urged, no longer a growl but still strained.

"I… I have a little m- money saved up," I stammered, reaching for something to say, "from moving… I was sup- supposed to b- buy a car but Ch- Charlie-that's my dad-he had bought my truck." I paused to swallow but found it difficult. My mouth felt incredibly dry all of a sudden.

Edward's eyes were shut, his head leaning back against his headrest, but his hands still gripped the steering wheel. He nodded, a sign that I should continue.

"Well, um, Renee - that's my mom - she lives in, you know, Florida now and, um, she thought I should come visit. I j- just started a job, and I have the car money. So I am going to, you know, use that money to buy a pl- plane ticket. I just need to figure out when."

I wondered, when Edward did not move, if I should throw my door open and make a run for it. But where would I go? I didn't know where I was and, as I had already made clear that day, I had a terrible sense of direction. I would be on foot and he would have a car... I swallowed again.

"I, um…" I tried to think of anything worth adding. "I will probably stay inside the whole time. You know, skin this pale doesn't mix well with sunlight."

A noise like a chuckle erupted from his chest, and Edward's hands relaxed on the steering wheel. I hadn't meant to be funny, but I supposed he knew better than I what happened to pale skin in strong sun. He and his family had the palest skin I'd ever seen. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but seemed to think better of it and said nothing. There was another little chuckle; then, dead air. He turned away and I fell mute. The conversation was over.

We sat in silence for several long minutes. It seemed as though the freak weren't even breathing. He kept his eyes closed and rested his head against his window, his jaw clenching and unclenching as time ticked by. I wondered what he was planning on doing to me, how he had found me, what the creeps in the alley were up to by now. I wondered how I could make it home safely after everything that had happened. So far, Edward had made no moves to touch me, but he certainly seemed inclined toward violence. I felt like I was going to be sick. What would he do to me if I threw up in his car? If I opened the door, would he think I was trying to run? If I _could _open the door, _should_ I try to run? After an age of terror and uncertainty, he tilted his head toward me and frowned.

"I know I asked this before, but are you okay?" Edward asked, sounding much calmer than I expected.

"Fine," I answered automatically. My voice quavered, so to sound more convincing, I repeated, "I'm fine." My voice quavered again. A crease formed in Edward's brow as his eyes opened, studying me. I tried to swallow but found that, between my dry mouth and the lump in my throat, I could not.

"You're hyperventilating," he said calmly. "You should calm down."

I hadn't noticed that my breathing was irregular until he mentioned it. I was gulping air down like it could quench some great thirst. Self-conscious, I tried to slow my breaths, but a burning, constricting feeling in my chest begged me not to.

"I'm fine," I blurted again. His eyes were burning into me. He knew I was lying. I wasn't convincing him. "I'm fine," I insisted, without meaning to speak it aloud. I was sounding less and less fine.

"Bella," he spoke slowly, "calm down. Everything is going to be okay."

I tried to listen to the words, but blood pounded in my ears, drowning out his voice. It hurt my throat to breathe, but it ached my chest not to.

"Take a deep breath," Edward instructed. One gasping breath brought in more air than usual.

"Now let it out slowly." A panting noise escaped my chest. I couldn't stand how my body was betraying me. The worse I sounded, the longer he watched me; I couldn't stand him watching me!

"I'm fine!" _Shut up!_ Why did I keep saying that? I put a hand over my mouth to keep the words in.

"Just think about breathing," Edward said, his eerily melodic voice gentle and quiet. "Take another deep breath."

I removed my hand and breathed in. I looked at him earnestly.

"I'm fine." _Stop it!_ Eyes wide, I threw both hands over my mouth.

"Hey, it's okay," Edward said, reaching a hand toward my shoulder. Imagining all the scenarios I had expected before - rape, torture, death - I cringed away.

Edward cringed as well, withdrawing his hand. For a moment, a look of sadness crossed his face, followed my something I couldn't read. It was a blank, deflated expression.

"I bet you just want to go home," he said. He gave me a little smile. I tried to nod, but I'm not sure what motion, if any, I actually made.

And, quick as a wink, his hand was at the ignition, and we were back on lighted road again.

I don't remember telling him where Jessica and Angela were waiting for me, but I was relieved to see them waiting outside the Italian restaurant. I wasn't even bothered when Jessica confessed they had already eaten; I just wanted to go home. But Edward was uncooperative.

"I think you should eat something," he told me, lowering his chin with a concerned expression.

I looked to Jessica and Angela for help. Jessica's jaw dropped, but she looked somehow thrilled. Angela caught my eye, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me when she looked back at Edward and said, "Actually, we told Bella's dad she'd be home soon. We'd better get going. Do you mind eating at home, Bella?"

The look on Edward's face said he didn't believe a word of the lie Angela had just told, but he didn't argue. Instead, he took a step closer to us and put a hand behind my back protectively.

"Please be sure she gets something hot to eat soon," he whispered to Angela. She nodded.

I had thought that Angela was just trying to get away quickly, but apparently she took Edward seriously. As soon as we left the restaurant, we went straight to McDonald's to get me a burger and soda. I didn't feel much like eating, but as I sat alone in the back seat, I sipped my Coke, and the Coke seemed to go down more easily with bites of burger.

I wished I had brought a heavier jacket. I huddled down in my seat with my sweater wrapped around my arms like a blanket, but I shivered all the way home. And as anxious as I was to get there, it was such a long drive home.

Sleep that night was an impossibility.

After Jessica dropped me off, I immediately went up to my room and shut the door. Charlie gave me a quizzical look as I passed him on the stairs, so I made a point of making a little noise as I grabbed some sweats and took a shower. Hopefully he would think I was just tired and wouldn't realize I was avoiding talking to him; if a conversation started, I was pretty sure I would tell him all about the alley and start panicking. And if Charlie heard about me almost being mugged or raped or whatever those creeps were planning - well, there was sure to be some police activity in Port Angeles that night.

Unfortunately, not talking about what happened wasn't keeping me from panicking. As I stood in the shower, hot water rushing over me, the shivers returned. Every time I blinked, I could see the glint of a street light in the evil eye of the man who had called out to me. The sight of my knees reminded me of how I had been planning to knee him in the groin. I couldn't help imagining what my hands would have looked like, covered in blood, after smashing his nose into his skull.

I turned up the hot water and tried to clear my head. _Think about school_, I told myself. _Think about Angela and Jessica and innocent Mike…_ I shut my eyes, concentrating on Forks High School. But instead of a friendlier classmate, I only saw Edward Cullen. He had his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose against some great frustration. His jaw muscles clenched.

I opened my eyes again, looking for something - anything else - to focus on. Nothing lay in sight but my shampoo. Ingredients: Water, sodium laureth sulfate, … Bad teeth and the smell of liquor. _No! _I cut the water off, dried quickly, and dashed back to my bedroom.

The floorboards creaked under my feet. Blankets rustled as I pulled them back on the bed. But I heard the laughter of the drunks in the alley. Bottles clinking, scraping against pavement. I was shaking head to toe. I pulled on some socks and crawled into bed, but I couldn't bring myself to turn out the light. I shut my eyes.

I was standing in the alley, ready to try what little self defense I remembered from a half-finished mother-daughter class Renee had signed us up for years ago. Headlights flashed across the scene and spun to a stop in front of me.

I opened my eyes. My faded childhood comforter was pulled high around my chin. My room was brightly lit, and the light came from a dusty, nickel-brushed fixture in the ceiling rather than from headlights, but I was not comforted.

My mind swam with the idea of calling Renee. I ached to see her, to be far from Washington and safe in her house. I didn't mind if her house was in Florida; I just wanted to be there, with her. But it was well after midnight on the East Coast, and calling her that late would sound parental alarms for sure.

I threw the pillow over my head and tried to concentrate on falling asleep. If I could just focus on counting sheep, or images of sailboats on a breeze, just something relaxing, surely sleep would come. I wasn't even that concerned about the fact that I would be tired the next day; I just wanted to stop seeing replays of the most horrifying moments of the evening.

I recited the periodic table of elements as well as I could recall it. Somewhere around silver, Ag, I lost track of the table and felt a fit of terror instead. Drawing a shaky breath, I attempted to re-focus: this time, I recalled driving directions from my old house in Phoenix to the nearest McDonald's. When my mind's eye threatened to return to a dark alley rather than a sunny, arid highway, I translated the directions into Spanish.

After eons of struggling to keep my mind in check and striving for sleep, my shivering body plodded down the hall for an extra blanket. As I returned to my room, I thought I caught a glimpse of something at my window. Afraid to look, I stopped in my tracks, staring at the floor, until the drumming in my ears paced out a few dozen beats. Then, slowly, I raised a hand to the light switch and my eyes to the window. I saw nothing. The room went dark and I clambered into bed, pulling the extra blanket over me as I went.

_There is nothing out there_, I told myself. My stomach argued, twisting itself into knot upon knot; but I insisted. There was nothing out there, and I kept my eyes shut tight against the scary things in the world, and I was going to find sleep if it killed me.

I must have nodded off or been really out of it, because my alarm caught me off guard in the morning.

Sitting up in bed, the world seemed like a different place than the night before. The light coming in my window was back to the usual gray mist. The only sign that anything at all had happened the night before was the two extra blankets on my bed.

I shook my head as my socked feet hit the bare floor. I _must_ have really been out of it; I only remembered grabbing one extra blanket from the closet outside Charlie's room.

It was a relief to start my morning routine, and the nightmare I had lived through seemed more and more like a distant dream as I got dressed and brushed my hair. I was exhausted. I was tense. But I was okay. Whatever had happened was in the past. I took a deep breath, and some sweet fragrance laced the air.

Yes, I was alive, and it felt good!


	10. Goin' Out of My Head

Happy New Year!

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews and/or added me as a fave. Big kisses to you all!

Picking up where we left off, right after the Port Angeles trip goes horribly wrong and Bella has her restless night. Hope you enjoy!

You, my dear readers, know I don't own any of the good stuff, but just to give credit where credit is due: titles are songs recorded by Frank Sinatra; characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Goin' Out Of My Head**

The school day routine was exactly what I needed after my bad night or bad dream – whatever it was. I was so tired I didn't really wake up until halfway through English, but I decided lack of sleep was going to be my only complaint for the day. I was relatively happy to see Jessica in Trig, and it must have shown, because she actually had a selfless moment.

"You seemed really cold last night," she said apologetically. "I'm sorry my little heater couldn't do the trick. I guess my car is showing its age."

"Oh, that's okay, Jess," I assured her. "Washington is just a little chilly for me." Smiling encouragingly, I angled for a change in topic. "Mike asked about you in English," I said.

"Ooh, really?" she squealed, and everything Mike said or did or may have meant was the focus of our whispering through Trig and Spanish, right up to the lunch bell.

I had made it through the morning without pausing to dwell on my near-death experience the night before, but the grave expression on Angela's face when I saw her at lunch threatened to shake my good spirits. I compensated by plastering on my brightest grin.

"Hey, Angela!" I cried before she could ask any probing questions about my well-being. She gave me a puzzled look.

"Hey... Bella," she murmured, a wrinkle in her brow.

"So, now that you're all set, are you looking forward to the dance Saturday?" I asked, taking my seat at the table with an apple and a slice of pizza.

"I, er..." she trailed off, looking at something over my shoulder. I twisted in my seat to see what caught her eye.

Edward Cullen was standing right behind me. My smile began to slip, but I caught myself and kept it in check.

"Hello," he said in a low voice, looking from Angela to me. He came alongside the table and crouched down on his heels to put his face almost level with mine.

"Bella," he said, so low I could barely hear him, "I was hoping I could have a word with you."

My smile faltered completely then. There was only one thing he could want to speak with me about, and it wasn't next period biology. My mouth went dry.

"Just for a second," Edward added swiftly. His eyes narrowed as he looked to Angela. "Just for a second," he repeated.

I was a little unclear on how Edward's assuring my friend he would only need me a second had led to my voluntarily standing up from the table and following him, but I found myself sitting at a table alone with the boy a moment later. My palms were sweaty, and my heart pounded. I stared blankly at the table.

Edward leaned forward, spreading his hands out on the table, breaking my trance and leading my eyes up to his face.

"You aren't still planning on going to Seattle, are you?" he asked.

"What?"

"Seattle. Saturday?" He gave me a significant look. "You aren't still going to go after what happened last night, right?"

_What happened last night._ The little game I had been playing with myself was over. It had happened. It wasn't a bad dream. There was a witness. A _participant_, even.

And, like a pile of cards that had been stacked carefully, just so, all the memories of the drunks in the alley and the terrifying rescue that followed, all the images I had labored to put away the night before, everything came crashing down on me. The cafeteria became a blur, a swirling tangle of light and noise, tumbling and whirling around Edward's white face. His eyes burned into me like coals, glowing amber and yet somehow dark and hard.

My mind started to race, and I felt supremely uncomfortable. It was difficult to breathe, like the weight of my worries was sitting on my chest, squeezing the air out of me. I swallowed so hard it strained my throat. My throat was hurting and my chest was hurting and I was going to lose it and cry or something and I didn't want to cry in the cafeteria and Edward was going to see the whole thing and I didn't want him to but I couldn't help it.

Frowning, Edward leaned across the table. "Hey," he said, so softly and gently it was almost a song. "You doing okay?"

I looked at the table and braced myself to lie.

"I'm fine," I mumbled.

_I'm fine. I'm fine._ The lie from the night before taunted me. Why couldn't I say something else? I forced my eyes to Edward's face, and I knew: I might as well have said, "I'm going out of my mind." His mouth hung open a little as he studied my trembling lip and shaking hands. A glimpse of his sparkling teeth sparked a shiver through my core.

"Stay calm, Bella," he soothed, his lion eyes boring into my brain, melting me into my seat. Something inside me jumped to obey him and pulled away from panic. But the tug was tiny; it only served to show me how far gone I was. I was nowhere near calm, no matter if I wanted to be, or Edward begged me to be, or part of me was dying to be. I was a wreck. I could barely see my shaking hands on the table before me. As the realization of this sank in, I tried to recover with a gasp, a desperate attempt at getting oxygen to my crashing brain.

There was a flash of motion at the edge of my vision just before everything went dark.

Something cool pressed against my clammy forehead. My arms and legs were lead; my whole body jostled in a steady, rocking motion. I blinked my eyes open. Had I gone blind? All I saw was blazing white. I blinked again and noticed color in the periphery. Squinting a bit, I tried to move my head to see what was happening.

My forehead rested against a pale neck. My cheek, a shoulder. Strong arms wrapped around my back and under my knees, carrying me someplace. The scent of evergreens accompanied a refreshing breeze across my face. We were outside. I shut my eyes again. I was too disoriented to wonder or worry about where I was being carried, but I was relieved to find that the tightness in my chest had lessened enough for me to take a deep breath.

"You passed out," a voice rang in my ear. "You had a panic attack and passed out, and we will be at the nurse's office in just a second."

I nodded feebly against the shoulder. Sure, panic, nurse. Something about that seemed to make sense somehow. I was too dizzy to think about it.

I heard a door opening and some soft murmuring, but I kept my eyes shut. I felt like the world was fluid, and it would all flow away if I tried too hard to make it stay, but if I could just lie still, it would wash over me like a wave, and then it would all make sense.

The arms wrapped around me disappeared and were replaced by a stiff cot. It was uncomfortable, and I frowned against the change.

"Bella, can you hear me?" a woman's voice asked.

I nodded. Could the woman bring the arms back? I didn't like the cot.

"You're in the nurse's office, sweetheart. You fell unconscious at lunch." A hand was at my wrist. It was warm and very dry. The warmth made me feel funny. I swallowed. There was more murmuring, and this time I wanted to hear it, but it was too quiet. I blinked, trying to get a glimpse of my surroundings.

The little nurse sat next to my cot, holding my wrist but turned away in conversation with a tall figure by the door. I had to turn my head to see who it was, and my eyes were all blurry. After blinking a couple of times, I recognized Edward Cullen.

Somehow that seemed strange, but I couldn't grasp onto a thought long enough to figure out what was strange about it. I remembered talking with him at lunch, and at the same time I wasn't surprised to see him in the nurse's office with me, but I wasn't sure how I knew he would be there. I felt sleepy and nervous and agitated, and somehow it had something to do with him, but seeing him didn't bother me at all. I tried to sit up.

"Oh, you'd better stay lying down," the nurse said, turning back to me. "Are you feeling dizzy at all?"

I nodded.

"That's to be expected. How about your stomach? Do you feel queasy?"

"Not now," I answered thickly.

"All right, well I think the best thing is for you to relax for a few minutes before you try sitting up, and then we'll get you some water and see how you feel. Okay?"

I nodded again. What else could I do? Offer my own prognosis?

I was left alone, and after the anxiety started to drain out of me, I realized how awful I had felt and how much it was helping to lie quietly in a dark room. By the time the door opened again, I felt as good as new, except for a dull ache in my temples and a fluttery feeling like I had had the previous day.

The nurse approached my cot and handed me a little plastic cup of water, which I took gratefully.

"How are we feeling?" she asked as I took a sip.

"Better," I mumbled.

"Any trouble breathing? Light-headedness?"

I shook my head.

"Okay, well I'm writing you an excuse out of class for the rest of the day. I think it's best if you go home and take it easy this evening. I can have Ms. Cope call Chief Swan to come pick you up."

"No!" I protested at such a volume that the nurse jumped. If Charlie got involved, it would only mean me trying to calm _him_ down on top of calming myself.

"No," I repeated, at a more controlled volume, "I can drive myself home."

The nurse patted me on the hand.

"Ordinarily, Miss Swan, I wouldn't have a problem with a sick student driving home. But considering you've already lost consciousness unexpectedly once today, I think it would be better if you didn't drive right now."

Just then, Edward, who had been lurking in the doorway, stepped in to undo me.

"I'll drive her home," he said in a soft, persuasive voice. He caught the nurse's eye and kept it for a moment. She nodded.

"Miss Swan," she said without looking away from Edward's gaze, "Mr. Cullen has offered to escort you home. But if you experience any chest pains or dizziness, please don't hesitate to call the hospital." Then, as if in a daze, she drifted away from my cot, leaving me alone with the teacher's pet. She didn't even ask me if I was okay with this escort. Good grief.

Edward waited while I collected myself. He already had my backpack slung over his shoulder as he stood by the door. I took my time sitting up but found that the dizziness was gone. The nurse handed me a copy of my excuse note – another, she mentioned, would be sent to the office for me – and Edward steered me out of the nurse's office with a gentle but deliberate grip on my elbow.

The cold wind outside stung like a slap to my face. But with the sting came clarity. I knew Edward was to blame for all the embarrassment and inconvenience of my fainting spell. And here he was trying to drive me home.

I shook the hand from my elbow.

"I can walk," I said icily.

"I'll drive you," he said.

_Like hell. _"No, I have a truck. I'm driving it home."

"You'll be cold," Edward protested.

"You're not driving me," I spat.

"At least take my jacket. It's important you stay warm right now."

"My truck has heat, thank you very much." Did he think he was being a gentleman or something by pestering me?

"Then I'll follow you," he replied.

He had an answer for everything! Why did he have to be so irritating? We reached my truck, and I literally had to throw myself at the door handle to keep him from opening the door for me.

"I don't need you following me all the way home," I said. "I drive home every day. So far that hasn't been a problem." I tossed my backpack into the passenger seat.

"No way. I'm in charge of you. I'm not going to have the police chief on my tail because I was supposed to make sure his daughter got home safely and she passed out and ran off the road and died. No way."

"Fine," I huffed. "Whatever!" I climbed into my truck and slammed the door.

He did follow me home, but he left a respectable distance between my big, rusty truck and his shiny family vehicle. He didn't even stop when I pulled into Charlie's driveway; instead, he cruised slowly past, waiting for me to let myself in and then accelerating away. Only then did it occur to me that I had just led the freak to my house. Yet, somehow it didn't seem to matter. Sure, in a town as small as Forks, it was possible that everyone knew where the chief of police lived anyway. But, I realized as I locked the front door behind me, that wasn't it. Somewhere between his saving my life from the death van and his following me at a modest distance to make sure I got home in one piece, there was a boy who maybe wasn't the threat to me that I had always worried about.

Recalling Edward's finest moments of bravery was a mistake. I was taken back to the alley where I would have died had he not shown up in the nick of time. It was so clear in my mind, I could practically taste the vodka and asphalt. My knees wobbled, so I sat down on the spot, shaking on the kitchen floor.

After a few minutes, I reached up and grabbed the phone. My fingers punched buttons, a number I hadn't even realized I knew by heart. The line rang. It rang again.

"Hello?" answered the sweetest voice in the world.

"Hi, Mom?" The tears started to flow. "I want to come home."


	11. Don't Ever Be Afraid to Go Home

I have spent the past three days debating whether or not this chapter is part of, or separate from, the following chapter. I apologize for this delay and present to you what I have, for the moment, decided is Chapter 11. It is a little on the short side; the next chapter is longer, and I am editing it now so it won't be long before it's up!

I think you will all enjoy Chapter 13! It is from a different POV, which was something I never intended to do, but I got a request for another POV and it seems to fit really well after our next chapter. So stay tuned!

I invite all of you to leave a review, favorite, or alert. I usually get my greatest pleasure from checking my hits count but it has come to my attention that either all the hits on the site or just my hits are screwed up: hits that I know for a fact are taking place are not showing up on my count. So if you could do me a big, big favor and leave me some sort of sign that you were here, I'd really appreciate it!

Enough chatter, so here we go. Titles are songs recorded by Frank Sinatra, and characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thanks for reading!

**

* * *

Chapter 11: Don't Ever Be Afraid to Go Home**

I woke early Thursday morning, having completely passed out long before dinner the night before. Worried Charlie hadn't been able to do without me for dinner, I ran downstairs to check the kitchen for signs of a square meal. The welcome sight of an empty plastic storage container and plate, still covered in tomato sauce, lying in the sink told me Charlie had found some leftover spaghetti. I breathed a sigh of relief and gave the dishes a good rinse before popping some bread in the toaster for my breakfast.

As I sat down with my toast and juice, Charlie thudded down the stairs.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, catching sight of me on his way to the coffee pot. "I heard you came home sick yesterday, so I didn't want to disturb you last night. You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," I answered, a little confused. "How did you hear I went home? Did the school call you?" I was going to shoot that nurse.

"No, Karen Newton called and left a message around three. The message said she'd gotten a call from Mike that you had fallen ill at school and she wasn't expecting you at work. She wished you a quick recovery."

Ah, right. People usually did things like call in sick if they had to miss work. I would have to thank Mike for giving his mom the message for me.

But first things first. I swallowed my toast and took a sip of juice to clear my throat.

"Um, Dad?"

"Yeah, Bells?" Charlie looked up from the box of cereal he had poised over a bowl.

"I talked to Renee last night about coming to see her?" I tried not to let the statement come out as a question, but it felt so odd to give Charlie notice about leaving him for the other side of the country with only a couple days' notice. He said nothing in response, so I forged on. "We decided this weekend was a good time."

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"You're going to Florida this weekend?" he asked, a note of confusion in his voice. It broke my heart a little.

"We got a ticket for Friday night, returning Sunday so I won't miss any school." I attempted to sound firm. Decided. Grown up.

Charlie looked blankly at his bowl for a moment. Then, his cereal pouring resumed, and he nodded.

"How are you getting to the airport?"

I felt a little hot behind my ears as I turned back to my own breakfast. I wasn't planning on driving my truck all the way to the Seattle-Tacoma airport, especially not after the conversation that had sparked my panic attack in the first place.

"Well..." I began, "I guess I would need a ride."

Charlie sighed over a spoonful of cereal.

"All right. When's your flight?"

After breakfast, Charlie headed to work, but I still had time to shower and get ready for school without rushing. Bearing in mind that I would actually work my first real shift at Newton's after school, I chose some gray slacks that I didn't wear very often. I had trouble picking out a good top to wear, given that most of my best clothes were suited to the mild Phoenix climate, but I eventually settled on a sleeveless pink top and pulled on a big, hooded sweatshirt to get me through the school day without being struck with hypothermia.

The knowledge that I was only a couple days from warmth, sunshine, and and my mother's arms completely banished the nervousness that had plagued me the previous two days. I realized in both English and Trig that, while I had thought I was paying attention in those classes, my most recent notes were abnormally inadequate.

I had missed the first part of the movie we were watching in biology when I went home for anxiety, so I was lost as the video resumed that afternoon. I tried watching but gave up after a few minutes and busied myself with doodling in my notebook. I tried hard to concentrate on the doodle, because I knew where my mind would go if it were idle, and, sure enough, halfway through a full-page loop, I found myself noticing the posture of my lab partner. Not nearly as tense as he had been in the past, he nevertheless leaned away from me in his seat. I was engulfed in the more intense memories of him. Edward Cullen, rigid in his seat, eyes as black as pitch. Edward Cullen, growling at me to get in his Volvo. Edward Cullen, jaw clenched in murderous fury. Edward Cullen, pinning me to the frozen ground.

His eyes piercing into me. His muscled arm, wrapped around my waist. His chiseled face, pale and flawless, mere inches from mine. His hard body, pressed urgently against mine. Pinning me. To the ground.

A shiver shook me; it was unlike the prickly tremors that had been racking my body for two days, aftershocks from Port Angeles. This one was hot and pleasant. It was sensual and delicious.

It was in public, and it was embarrassing.

Just as I shivered, I thought I could see Edward move slightly in his seat. My heart thumped. Had he seen me shiver? Could he possibly know what I had been thinking? Maybe he would assume it was residual trauma, like my shakes and fainting the day before.

Very cautiously, I peered at him out of the corner of my eye. The side of his mouth seemed turned up, his eye crinkled in amusement. He had seen! Heat rose to my neck and face. Suddenly, Edward's posture changed. It was a subtle change, but as he shifted his weight away from me, I thought he held his breath. The amusement in his face faded. And, just like that, I was reminded of the dark, piercing stare Edward had met me with on my first day at Forks High School. The one that screamed curses and death. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The heat behind my neck was replaced by a cold sweat.

Maybe he wasn't dangerous, I conceded, but Edward Cullen still freaked me out. And, in that moment, I vowed never to let myself be attracted to him again. Not for a single second.


	12. Fly Me to the Moon

Well, I promised it wouldn't be long before I got this chapter up, and here it is! I really hope you like it, because it may take me a while to post Chapter 13 (which is going to be from a different POV for a change!).

I am still having issues with my hits/visitors counts, so if you could favorite/comment/something to let me know you are here, I will lurrrve you forever! Thanks to those of you who have been leaving reviews (especially Dawnblaze-1 and Simaril, who make a point of it)!

Titles are songs recorded by Frank Sinatra. Characters and associated material are Stephenie Meyer's. Now, let's get Bella to Florida, shall we?

* * *

**Chapter 12: Fly Me to the Moon**

I worked my first Friday shift at Newton's and was so busy I had a tough time keeping an eye on the clock. I had to leave at exactly five o'clock – the moment my shift ended – to leave enough time to get home and ride to the airport with Charlie to catch my red-eye flight to Florida. I could hardly contain my excitement; I had had my suitcase packed and sitting in the passenger seat of my truck for two days. I couldn't wait to see Renee, not only because she was my best friend but also because she was sure to distract me from my anxieties with shopping and boy-watching and a dozen other silly things I didn't really enjoy. I so looked forward to feeling my mother's arms around me. I would even eat her cooking, which I (and any sensible person, really) would ordinarily find inedible. I didn't even care.

We made good time on the way to the airport, despite Charlie's driving like a turtle with a broken leg. There was still a little over an hour and a half before take-off, and I was feeling nervous about flying, so Charlie agreed to buy me a coffee and wait with me for a bit. He ordered a house blend, black. I ordered a tall nonfat decaf white chocolate mocha with a shot of caramel, no foam, no whip. Charlie's mouth hung open as he looked at me.

"What was that you just ordered?" he asked in disbelief.

"A mocha."

"Are you sure?" he laughed. I had to laugh, too. It felt good to have something to laugh about. Lately, my mind had been so consumed by stress and worry over what had been happening to me. It was refreshing to look forward to something for a change.

We drank our overpriced coffees in our customary silence. Afterward, Charlie thought it was probably time for me to go through the security gate if I wanted to avoid unforeseen delays, so he gave me a quick hug and left me in line to get my bags and body scanned.

By the time I found my way to the gate, there was only half an hour until boarding. There weren't any empty seats in the immediate vicinity, so I found a spot to lean against a pillar. Feeling nervous about the boarding procedure, I passed the time by watching the gate attendants.

A young man and a middle aged woman in navy blue suits juggled work behind the desk. The woman was flipping furiously through stacks of paper, periodically looking up to her computer screen and tapping on her keyboard in an agitated manner. The man, who seemed to be balding prematurely, held a shiny, black telephone receiver to his ear. From the look on his face, the conversation wasn't going well. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but his responses were brief. He nodded a lot, which I found amusing, considering the person on the phone couldn't see him. I didn't realize anything was wrong until the boarding time passed and other customers on my flight started approaching the desk. Prematurely Bald merely gestured to his phone and said nothing, while Little Miss Sunshine gave them each a brisk response, barely even bothering to look up from her paperwork. Finally, five minutes before our scheduled departure, Prematurely Bald caught Sunshine's eye and gave her a grim nod. Sunshine grabbed a little handset from the wall behind her desk.

"Ladies and gentlemen," her voice crackled throughout the terminal, "We apologize for the inconvenience, but Flight - - to Chicago has been canceled. We are trying to find out if we can get another plane, but we are already working on finding you seats on other flights. Please wait until your name is called before approaching the desk. At this time we are serving passengers Rodriguez, Jotwani, and Clemens. Thank you for your patience."

I wasn't sure what to do. They said the flight was canceled, then they said they were getting us on other flights. So I didn't have to do anything, right? I suddenly felt like I needed to use the restroom, but I was afraid to leave the gate in case I missed my call to the desk. I squatted low with my back to the column, watching and waiting.

Name after name was called, but not mine. The passengers' reactions were interesting to watch: some grew red in the face and shouted; some looked disappointed; others seemed not to mind at all.

"Now serving Flight - - passengers Johnston, Swan, and Boxxe," Sunshine announced.

I stood up and pulled my carry-on bag to the desk.

"Miss Johnston?" Prematurely asked, raising his eyebrows in my direction but not exactly making eye contact. He still had the phone receiver resting on his shoulder.

"Swan," I answered. Prematurely nodded and typed something into his keyboard. I hopped from one foot to the other, hoping my reschedule or whatever wouldn't take long – I really had to pee!

"Okay, Miss Swan," he said, pulling a couple pieces of paper from his desk. "We've got you on standby for the six o'clock flight tomorrow and confirmed for the seven-ten. Your connection is still in Chicago..."

"Wait, six in the morning?" I interrupted. "I can't leave until tomorrow morning?"

Prematurely looked me square in the eye for the first time. I got the feeling that my reaction was exactly what he had been hoping to avoid. In a tired monotone, he said, "I'm sorry, Miss Swan, but there are no more planes to meet your connection this evening. As I said, you have a confirmed seat tomorrow morning at seven-ten..."

"I don't have to go through Chicago," I interrupted again. I could tell by the heat in my neck that I was red in the face. I felt like I might cry. "I don't even have to go to Jacksonville. What about Orlando, or Daytona Beach?"

Prematurely withdrew the papers he had been trying to hand me and scowled at his computer screen, tapping in alternate information. "The flight that would get you to Orlando just left..." I looked at the time on the light-up board behind his head. It was over half an hour after our flight got cancelled. Irritation twinged inside of me, but a feeling of panic quickly overtook it. What would I do if they couldn't get me a flight until the morning?

"I can get you on stand-by for Daytona at eleven-fifty. That'll get you in around..." He clicked his mouse. "Two-thirty tomorrow afternoon." Prematurely looked at me expectantly.

I tried to think. How far was Daytona Beach from Jacksonville? Would Renee be able to drive there to get me?

"And if I get on the six a.m. Flight?" I asked.

My balding attendant tapped his keyboard again. "That puts you in Jacksonville at four-thirty-two. Your confirmed flight has you arriving at five-twenty."

That was way too late! We would barely have time to have dinner before I would need to get to bed in order to make my Sunday morning flight. I felt my lips tremble and tried to keep my composure as I told Prematurely that I didn't think that would work for me.

"Can I try that stand-by and see what happens?"

* * *

The phone rang and rang. I was teetering on the edge of tears, agitated from my bad luck, disappointed in the turn of events, and I needed someone to answer the damn phone!

I jammed the receiver down on the cradle before the answering machine picked up, and my coins clinked into the change return slot at the bottom of the pay phone. I took a deep breath. It leaked out shakily.

_ Okay, stay calm, _I told myself. _If you can't get him to answer, it's only six hours until your standby flight. If worse comes to worse, you will have a bad trip home, but at least you will get to see Renee for a couple of hours._

That thought made me feel more confused and more upset. Should I just stay and try to take the morning flight, even though I would have a ridiculously short visit in Florida? The thought that I wouldn't get my much-needed visit with Renee this weekend if Charlie came back for me made my eyes prickle with the threat of tears again. But I was exhausted. I couldn't imagine staying in the airport terminal for another six or seven hours, then flying across the country, only to eat and sleep before flying all the way back.

I pulled my suitcase behind me as I paced down the mostly-empty corridor to the ladies' room. I had already made three trips there, but all the restaurants and gift shops had long since closed, and I needed something to walk to.

I waved my hand over a faucet until it turned on, bent over it, and splashed my face with the lukewarm water. It felt so good I moaned a little. The little shower at Charlie's house sounded so good at that moment. I looked up at my reflection in the expansive mirror over the row of sinks. I looked terrible. How long had I had those dark circles under my eyes? Was it only since the Port Angeles trip, or had it been longer? Yes, I needed a vacation, but it needed to be longer than a few hours. I blotted my face with a paper towel and tossed it in the freshly-emptied waste can.

Back at the pay phone, I dropped in my coins and re-dialed.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

On the fourth ring, I heard a click.

"Hello?" Charlie's voice came, breathless, over the line.

"Ch- Dad, it's me," I said, focusing on keeping my voice even.

"Bella? Oh, no. What's happened?"

"They cancelled my flight. They put me on standby for another, but I didn't make it on that one either." I was impressed with myself. For feeling as awful as I did, I was showing no signs of being about to burst into tears.

"Oh, wow," Charlie sighed, and I could hear the pity in his voice. "I'm sorry, Bells. Are they still trying to get you to Florida?"

"They have me standby at six a.m., and confirmed on a later flight, but I wouldn't get there till tomorrow afternoon, and I'll only have to turn around and come back first thing Sunday morning," I told him. My voice shook a little on _afternoon_, but otherwise I was steady.

"Man..." Charlie paused. "Okay, so you need a ride home. I only just got here, and I was having trouble staying awake that last hour or so. I don't know if I can make it back to you and get us home safely. So let me think a minute. You on a pay phone?"

"Yeah," I answered uncertainly. It sounded like he was thinking of not coming back to pick me up, and that made me nervous. "You're coming to get me, aren't you, Daddy?"

I hadn't called Charlie "Daddy" since I was really little. My eyes stung.

"Now, don't worry, Bells. I'll work this out. Don't worry. I just need a minute. Maybe we know someone in Seattle who can keep you till morning, you know? I'll figure something out. Just... do you have the number to the phone you're on?"

I stared at the face of the pay phone.

"Uh, yeah." I read him the number.

"Okay, I'll call you back in a few minutes. Just sit tight and don't you worry."

"Okay," I said. I wanted to tell Charlie I loved him, but I knew I would start crying if I did. The line went dead, and I began to wait.

* * *

It was almost four in the morning when a dark car pulled into the passenger loading area and came to a stop. I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for, but since there were no other passengers around, I guessed it was, at long last, my ride home. As I dragged my rolling carry-on to the curb, the driver's side door swung open and Jacob Black stepped out.

"Good morning," he said with a grin, swinging my bag into the trunk. "Charlie passed out about three hours ago. He barely made it out of Forks."

I peered into the car and spotted my father drooling in the back seat.

"I guess we're lucky to have you, then," I said

"Nah," Jacob protested over the thump of the shutting trunk, "I'm the lucky one. I'm not legal yet!" He waited for me to climb into the passenger seat and closed my door before walking around to his side. Despite the late hour... or was it early?... there was a definite bounce in that boy's step.

"You hungry?" he asked as we left the airport behind.

"Ugh," I groaned. I hadn't had anything since that coffee with Charlie, but I was too wound up and worn out for an appetite.

Jacob laughed.

"Okay, home it is, then! Nice shirt."

I looked down. It had been a very long eleven hours since I had pulled the sweatshirt on over my work clothes at the end of my shift, and I had forgotten I was wearing it. The thick folds of Jacob's black sweatshirt bunched in my lap. The boy was only just hitting his growth spurt, but the shirt he had given me at the beach was already huge on me.

"Yeah, it's one of the few warm things I have," I said with a little chuckle.

"There's a blanket in the back seat if you're cold," he offered. I recalled his words from the beach: _Isn't it nice to know that, if you ever get cold, I can warm you up? _"You can go to sleep if you want; I don't need you to keep me awake or anything."

"No," I said, "I'm tired, but I don't think I can sleep. How are you still awake?"

"Well, it's a Friday night," Jacob said by way of explanation. I stared at him, waiting for the rest of the sentence, but none came.

"You always stay up till dawn on the weekends?"

He only shrugged. I sighed, leaning my head back until it rested between the headrest and the shoulder strap of the seatbelt.

"So did they at least give you a voucher or something?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah, something like that. I don't really understand how it works. It doesn't help me right now." My voice cracked a little. I drew a slow breath to calm myself. Stress and fatigue were a bad combination; I was just a hangnail or Hallmark card away from melting into a tearful mess.

"I understand missing your mom. If I had a chance to see mine and I missed it, I'd be crying too."

The mention of Jacob's mother shamed me. I was crying over a postponed trip; he didn't even have a mother he could visit. _Oh, I've been so self-centered! _

"I'm sorry, Ja-" I began, but Jacob cut me off.

"I didn't mean that for, y'know, perspective, Bella." He looked away from the dark roadway to glance earnestly at me, revealing both how very comfortable he was driving as well as how much he wanted me to take his words seriously. "I just mean it."

A tear slipped down my hot cheek. I wiped it hurriedly in embarrassment.

"It must be tough for you, moving up here after all these years," Jacob continued, deepening the color in my cheeks by looking at me again. I wasn't sure if he could see my tears in the dim ambient light, but I turned my head away as if looking out the window at my shoulder.

"I just... need... a break," I breathed, and as the words escaped my lips, the weight of their truth settled on my chest. I had so been counting on seeing my mother! Two more tears broke free, taking a sob with them. Anger chased embarrassment.

"Why is the world trying to trap me here? I feel like I did something wrong!" I choked.

Charlie snorted in his sleep in the back seat. A very long silence followed. Jacob only nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. Miles disappeared behind us, and I felt as though I left a little of my frustration with each mile we passed. By the time we stopped for gas, all that was left in me was sadness and weariness.

Jacob stepped out of the car and started the pump. He walked around to my window.

"You know," he said, when I cracked open the door, "maybe you're here for a while. But I bet it's for the best, Bella." Then he gave me this sweet grin and also Charlie's wallet, which I hadn't realized he had had in the first place. The wallet, I mean. I had seen the grin before. It made a tiny part of me feel better.

A few minutes after we'd gotten back on the road, the sky began to lighten with approaching dawn. It was a new day.

For the rest of the drive, Jacob and I kept each other company with surprisingly easy conversation. The more we talked, the less, I realized, we had in common. But it mattered so little.

"What do you do for fun?" he had asked me.

"Well, I read."

"Do you write?"

"Very little."

"So is that all?"

"Well, I used to hold the world record for climbing stairs on a pogo stick, but ever since my terrible inner-ear accident, I haven't been able to practice," I joked. "How about you?"

"No, I don't write either."

"Yes, but what _do_ you do for fun?"

"I told you before; I work on my car."

"Oh, that's right," I said. "What kind of car did you say it was? A bunny?"

"A Volkswagen _Rabbit_," he corrected.

_ Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe._

"And how did you happen to acquire a car, Mr. Not-legal-yet?" I asked.

"I stole it from an old man," he answered. "Well, a _dead_ man, really. Everyone was dealing with the estate and what-not; no one even noticed that they left the car with the keys in the ignition right there in front of the house. I guess technically I stole the car from the _estate _of the old – I mean dead – man, but it wasn't running anyway. Quil and I had to push it down the block and..." Jacob looked over at me and, catching the incredulous expression on my face, his split into a wide grin.

"Oh, man, you should _see_ yourself right now! I'm messing with you, Bella!" He laughed, hitting the steering wheel with the heel of his palm. "I bought the car with my very own money. It wasn't in very good condition, so it didn't cost much."

My brain was slowing down with lack of sleep, so I was on a serious lag, but after a moment, I giggled, too. Pretty soon, we were both laughing so hard I was worried Jacob would have to pull over in order to avoid wrecking the car. The tears that came then weren't tears of frustration or sadness but of desperate laughter, the kind that comes with an aching gut.

We hiccupped into silence again as we neared Forks, wiping the moisture from our eyes. It was well into morning by then, and my stomach was growling, but I was too tired, too ready to get to Charlie's house to consider stopping for breakfast.

Charlie woke up when we were about a mile from the house.

"Oh, hey, Bells," he yawned, reaching a hand over my seat to pat me on the shoulder. "I guess I slept all the way home, huh?"

"You've almost got a full night's sleep," Jacob replied, grinning at him through the rearview mirror. "Bella and I will be unconscious till this afternoon, and you'll be ready to go once you've had your coffee!"

"Oh, that's right; you kids are going to need to catch up on some sleep." Charlie thought for a moment. "Well, Jake, why don't you crash on our couch for a while before doing any more driving? It'll be nice and quiet at our house."  
"Actually," Jacob said, licking his lips, "if I could maybe eat some breakfast first, that sounds really, really good." He said the last three words with a kind of groan, and I realized for the first time how tired the poor kid really was.

"Sure thing," nodded Charlie. "It's the least we could do."

Charlie showered while Jacob and I ate big bowls of cereal. I was still sorely disappointed over my failed trip to see Renee, but the big grin, big heart, and enormous appetite of the boy at my breakfast table gave me just enough strength to eat and get washed up before changing into my pajamas for the day.

I found Charlie to ask him if I should call Renee and update her on the flight business before I went to bed. He was dressed, drinking coffee in the kitchen and getting ready to go out for the day, but he assured me he would talk to her before he left. Heading back upstairs, I peeked into the living room and saw, sprawled across Charlie's couch, a half-dressed and completely unconscious Jacob Black. His mouth hung agape in a wet snore. He looked so innocent there, a child just beginning his transformation into a man. A kid who knew not only how to drive a car but also how to put one together. A boy who believed in purpose and who understood small losses could cause pain that might not be as great as the pain of a big loss, but it was just as real. A friend who would give the shirt off his back and drive all night for someone who needed warmth in her life.

I smiled to myself and, quietly, wearily, I climbed up to bed.

* * *

**A/N: **Ouch, that didn't go as planned, did it? What do you think happened there? What should happen next? Stay tuned for a different POV in Chapter 13, and thanks for reading!

Oh, and I couldn't find where the VW originally came from. If anyone can cite it for me, I'll be glad to credit you and adjust the dialogue accordingly!


	13. I Wanna Be Around

Oh. Em. Gee.

Well, _that_ took forever. I am _so_ sorry!

At long last, Chapter 13 is complete and ready for you, my funny valentines! As promised, it is from a different POV. It was really difficult to write for a number of reasons (hence the delay) but I feel pretty good about it. It is by far the longest chapter yet, and I hope it will remain the longest chapter for the duration of our flight. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Remember, loves: titles are songs recorded by Frank "L-O-V-E" Sinatra, and characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer.

And special thanks to Anthony, who actually knows my dumb self and not only gave me sweet, sweet praise after Ch 12 but is expecting a baby girl! Congratulations, Anthony!

* * *

**Chapter 13: I Wanna Be Around**

**EPOV**

I would be hard pressed to explain what brought me to Port Angeles that night, but my guess lies somewhere between divine providence and sheer, dumb luck.

I hadn't been trying to follow Bella – after all, I couldn't pursue the girl. She wasn't interested in any advances I would've had to offer. Indeed, she feared me, which was, after all, the natural human response. And who was I to try to change her mind, when I could only serve to complicate her life? Because that was all I could do; there was nothing about a vampire-human relationship that wouldn't be complicated, the very least of which was my constant desire to drain her of every drop of her life-giving blood.

No, it was foolishness to even dream of a future with her. But dream I did. My obsession had led me to watching her sleep through her bedroom window. It was a sick, self-wounding sort of habit, but when I saw her beautiful, pink lips moving innocently in her slumber, I couldn't keep myself from watching in rapt fascination. Besides, in her sleep, she couldn't know I was there, appreciating her very human, yet very unique beauty. She couldn't be afraid of me, or brush me off with a curt remark, as she so often mustered the courage to do while awake. I never dared to watch her so closely when she could be aware of my doing so.

And I never intended to follow her to Port Angeles. But once I realized that she was there, and she was wandering the streets on her own, I admit that I did begin some sleuthing. By the time I found the minds of the scum that were stalking her, I barely had enough time to intervene before blood was shed. I don't even know whose blood was in the most danger – Bella's or those vagrants'. Thoughts of the atrocities awaiting Bella hit me from all directions. But I had spent too much time and energy protecting the girl from _me_ than to let her be destroyed by men like _that_.

As I threw the door to my car open and ordered Bella to get in, she looked from the filthy-minded sleazeballs to me. For a second, I thought she wasn't going to obey. Though her pupils were wide with terror, they did not relax at the arrival of her rescue, her sole shot out of her mess. She eyed me, then the scum, and as I was about to give up on leaving and instead get out and kill the sons of bitches, she finally stepped into my car.

I took her as far from those creatures as I could before my rage blinded me and I had to stop the car. I was torn between my concern with the poor girl getting home safely and my desire to go back and erase all the sick, twisted thoughts from those minds through blunt trauma to the head. I was poised on the edge of a cliff, with only the sound of Bella's panicked breathing keeping me on the non-falling side. And, through it all, her heart dutifully pumped her intoxicating scent through her veins. The thirst it brought to my throat threatened to make me fall; my body ached to go back to that alley and spill some blood. Yet she breathed, right there next to me.

"Bella?" I groaned, trying hard to focus on her instead of her would-be attackers. "Are you okay?"

But Bella did not answer. Her heart thudded ominously like the thick sound of a flat tire smacking itself against the unforgiving pavement, _thud, thud, thud_. Her breathing was quick, shallow and uneven. Those men did that to her. They didn't even have to touch her to damage her. My anger flared.

"Bella," I pleaded, straining to keep control, "please... Say something to distract me. Anything!"

But still I was answered only by her body's sounds of distress. I couldn't take it.

"Bella!" I exclaimed, gripping my the steering wheel in preparation for driving back to that alley to cause some damage. I looked right at the girl, hoping desperately she would take pity on me and give me some distraction. "_I need you to say something. NOW!_"

And then, God bless her, the girl started telling me about her mother.

_Her mother!_

It was so human. So personal. A mother meant love and safety. To Bella, her mother was someone worth letting go to let her find happiness. To Bella, her mother was someone she could always go home to. My mother had died so long ago, I could hardly remember her. The closest thing I had now was Esme, and while I loved and cherished her, I didn't have the relationship with her that Bella had with her mother.

As she continued telling me how she planned to visit her mother – Renee, she called her – I felt the rage leave my body little by little. After a while, the scent of her in the closed environment of my car was more of an issue than the urge to go commit murder.

I leaned away from her, resting my head against the glass window, focusing on its cold smoothness instead of her soft warmth. As long as I didn't speak, I had no real reason to breathe, so I refrained from doing those things as well. Waves of fury alternated with intense thirst. Between the thought of smearing those miscreants' brains across the walls of that alley and the exquisite fragrance radiating from my passenger, my craving for blood was considerable. I was tense with restraint. But, behind it all was this frail, human girl, shivering from anxiety in my passenger seat. All at once it occurred to me that she had just been through some danger herself, and while she didn't know half of what had been lying in wait for her in that alley, she was all too aware that it was deadly. Her breaths were gasped, ragged and uneven. I wanted to check her over; I had more than enough medical training to ascertain if she were going into shock. But I was barely managing my anger and bloodlust, and I was afraid to let my guard down with that sweet blood pulsing under her skin, easily within my reach.

I kept my eyes shut, focusing on restraining myself, the poor girl's panicked breathing, anything but the urge to tear open an artery. Slowly, and as calmly as I could, I enunciated, "I know I asked this before, but are you okay?"

I don't know what she could have said to convince me that she was not, as I suspected, suffering intense anxiety, but her too-quick "Fine" in a cracking voice was not it. Her little heart stuttered. "I'm fine," she said again, sounding very much not fine. She sounded so pitiful I checked myself and, finding my temper more or less under control, allowed myself to look.

Her face was drawn and a little tic was lurking near her left eye. Her heart pumped wildly at its inviting cargo. She heard the lie in her own voice and, trying to convince me, or herself, she repeated herself: "I'm fine, I'm fine," like a cuckoo clock chiming the wrong hour. I tried to comfort the girl, to help her calm down, but she was already in the downward spiral of a panic attack. For once, I didn't have to hear her thoughts. _Am I going crazy? Am I having a heart attack?_ It is typical, when suffering from panic, to wonder if one is going to die. I felt awful for Bella. I surfaced from the rage and bloodlust and saw her, this sweet and beautiful creature, falling to pieces before my very eyes. My unbeating heart went out to her, and so did my hand.

But she flinched.

With her body and heart, she pulled away from me.

It was a cold reminder that I wasn't a friend to her. I wasn't meant to be. By my very nature, I was a threat to her existence. I couldn't comfort her the way she needed to be comforted. She knew it; why didn't I? It was a cruel joke that I, the greatest threat to her safety, should be the one with the skills and the opportunity to save her life – twice now.

No, I admitted to myself, I couldn't be her friend. But she was there with me and she needed help; maybe I could help her from afar. Crushed by the truth, I tried to put Bella's safety and comfort first. I managed to smile at her in an understanding way.

"I bet you just want to go home," I said, praying she would say no. _No, I feel safer with you, _she could say. _Don't leave me and seek revenge on those scum._ But she nodded feebly.

Well, that settled it.

I took great care in driving her to the restaurant where her friends waited somewhat impatiently. She was still trembling like a leaf, and I was reluctant to leave her in case she were going into shock, but when I offered to take her to dinner, she gave Angela such a look of horror that I was forced to accept Bella's fear and resign myself to helping her more indirectly. I urged Angela to please ensure that Bella got a hot meal. I didn't tell her it was to help Bella's nerves after a near-death experience, but Angela seemed like a sweet and honest girl, and I trusted her.

I may have also followed them back to Forks to make sure they got Bella home safely and without medical assistance. I really wished Bella would have permitted me to drive her; we would have made it in half the time. But it was probably better that I spend as little time with her as possible. It didn't matter how much she intrigued me or how determined I was to ignore the many ways she unintentionally beckoned me in. She was in danger every second I was near her. She was right to fear me, and I shouldn't try to persuade her otherwise. I had told Alice as much dozens of times: every few days, Alice would want to talk to Bella, or "check up" on Bella, and I refused to allow it. If Bella feared us as she should, we couldn't be friends, and if we weren't friends with her, prodding into her future was intrusive and disrespectful.

Having endured the hour it took for the girls to drive back to Forks and monitored from a distance that Bella made it safely into her father's house, I raced to my own house with such celerity that I momentarily felt a little better. Between my arriving late when Bella needed me and her obvious aversion to me, I had been feeling pretty useless. The release of being able to actually use my accelerator, and to be moments away from the guidance of my father, helped push aside those thoughts to make room for thoughts of action.

I breezed past Alice, who was waiting on the porch when I arrived at home.

_Sorry... _she tried to apologize as I rushed by. I stopped halfway through the door.

"Don't apologize, Alice. I asked you not to watch her. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

_No, you know I've peeked once or twice anyway. I should have caught this. _I ignored her attempt to shoulder the blame.

"Where's Carlisle?"

"In his office. Waiting for you." _I did see you coming, _she added sheepishly, but I was already up the stairs.

I was fully prepared to head back to Port Angeles and show those ruffians exactly as much pain as they had intended that poor human girl, but Carlisle had other ideas. When I found him, he was sitting at his desk, calmly waiting for my entrance.

"I take it Alice told you about what happened?" I slouched against the doorway.

_Almost happened,_ Carlisle corrected, and I nodded once in agreement.

"Only a little. We thought you might want to be in control of that conversation," he replied, gesturing for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Strictly speaking, none of us ever really needed to sit, but it was a natural thing to do while holding a conversation. I accepted the invitation, pulling myself into a leather wing-back chair. My father watched me expectantly, his hands folded before him, eyes calm and watchful, but the words to express what had happened and what I wanted to do eluded me.

The girl had been in trouble and I was _there_ and I only arrived at the last second and I wanted to kill those men. Rage. Wordless rage was all I had. I looked down at my own hands, shaking with agitation, with an urge to commit murder.

_So there were some troublemakers in Port Angeles?_ he prompted gently.

I shook my head as if shaking their thoughts from my mind.

"It was..." I began, but I couldn't express the luck that I had reached Bella in time.

"They were..." I tried again, but my venom ran thick at the thought of what those animals had been planning. I looked up, wishing Carlisle could hear my thoughts as I could hear his, just long enough to understand what I felt.

And, miraculously, he seemed to.

"You feel their death would be the greatest justice," he murmured softly. There was no judgment in his statement, but somehow I felt shamed by hearing my desire aloud.

"You should have heard what those filth were thinking," I said, trying not to sound defensive.

"Is it about the girl, or about the men?" he asked.

I stumbled for a second. "Both," I admitted.

"And how do you think she would feel about you protecting her in that way?"

The answer was obvious. Even Carlisle knew the answer, and he had barely met the girl. It didn't matter how much the scum had scared her, she would not believe that they needed to be killed. And having their blood on my hands – well, I would only be more of the monster she feared me to be.

"I'll take care of it," he continued without waiting for my answer. "Let's go."

We climbed into my car with Carlisle's black bag in tow and set off for Port Angeles again. Growing anxious that those creeps would be moving on to a new target, I pegged the speedometer. Carlisle's thoughts hit me from the passenger seat.

_I've never seen him so pro-active. How incredible that, after all these years, his inspiration comes in the form of a human girl. It's like she was meant for him somehow, with her silent mind, his attraction to her scent..._

I cleared my throat to remind Carlisle I could hear him.

"Sorry, son. I can't help thinking, you know."

"I don't think Bella was 'meant' for an untimely, gruesome death."

"Don't misunderstand me. What I mean is . . ." he paused to choose his words. "Does Bella's welfare concern you?"

_Concern_. What an ambiguous word. Yes, her safety worried me – especially when the girl found trouble in the safest of places. But _concern_ also meant _involve_, and something told me Carlisle was aware of the double meaning when he asked the question. Was it my place to involve myself in her life?

"All right, let me ask you this, Edward," my father interrupted my indecision. "Are you worried about her safety?" I started to answer but, without hesitation, Carlisle continued: "Because you _can_ restrain yourself from killing her. So she is not really in danger from you. You are worried about her safety in a way that helps her."

I would have argued, but the rhetoric continued.

"Are you worried about _our_ safety?" This time he paused.

"Of course," I replied. "There are a dozen reasons not to get involved, Carlisle. I am too aware that she poses a threat to us just as we do her."

"You're right. You are too aware. Bella hasn't said anything to anyone that might jeopardize our lifestyle here. Why do you think that is?"

"Either because she doesn't know what we are..." I paused to think. We were over halfway to Port Angeles already. Tall, mossy trees flew past us in the dark. They would have looked ominous to a human, if a human could see them at all in the dark, but I could see them clear as day.

"...Or?"

"Or because I asked her not to say anything," I finished. The statement hit me from a mental blind spot. I had always been sure that Bella feared me as the monster I was – her pulse in my presence was a testament to that – but I had never considered that, despite the fear, the girl might allow my word to mean something to her. Of course, it could just mean that she was afraid I would know if she spilled our secret. But I had never threatened her...

"So if she doesn't know, do you think you should be involved in her life, or leave it entirely?"

Leaving her life entirely meant dragging my whole family away from Forks, but truth is truth. "Leave. The less contact I have with her, the less chance she has of guessing what we are." I anticipated the next question, "But if she's staying quiet because I asked her to, we should stay, shouldn't we? Because she is more likely to keep a secret for someone who is still around." I glanced at Carlisle, who nodded slowly and silently beside me. "But I worry that it's a combination of the two," I confessed. "So stay or go? What does that mean?"

"I think," came the answer as we crossed into the Port Angeles city limits, "that means you can choose."

It was in the small hours of the morning when Carlisle and I returned. My thoughts had stayed so steadfastly with the girl that, upon returning to Forks, I allowed myself to check on her. I had spent a number of nights in the woods across from her house, listening to the rhythmic sounds of her heartbeat and breathing and, occasionally, her sweet, slumberous murmurs. It was the murmurs that had finally drawn me up into the accommodating boughs of a tree which afforded me an excellent view of her bedroom, and I had been treated to a little insight into the girl's silent thoughts; mostly they dwelled on her father, about whom she worried greatly, and her mother, whom she missed terribly.

But as I approached my friend tree, I could already tell Bella was not asleep. Her breathing was uneven, broken by frustrated sighs, and her sheets rustled as she tossed and turned in bed. I could just make out her hushed voice lisping something... What was it?

_The periodic table of elements? _I had to chuckle a little. Whatever happened to counting sheep? I climbed up to my usual branch with ease and was met with the sight of Bella curled up in her bed, pillows over her head, and shivering. Her lights were even on.

The girl sighed again, and I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. She had had a terrifying night, she had school tomorrow, and now she couldn't even fall asleep. My impulse was to go to her, to comfort her, but I knew that would be not only impossible but unreasonable a well. Even if my mere presence weren't a threat to her safety, even if she weren't a danger to my family's secrets, the truth remained that I could not comfort her. I frightened her. And I should. Even if Bella found trouble, it was right of my family not to get involved; Alice should not search the girl's future, and I should limit my interaction with her as much as possible.

As Bella found a new position in her little bed, her chanting took up again, this time a series of directions. After a moment, the directions came in Spanish. She really was a clever girl. It was such a shame that we weren't meant to be friends; she never failed to impress and intrigue me.

But what if we really never got involved with her? Wouldn't she be dead now, either by her attackers in the alley or by accident that icy morning in the school parking lot? Maybe I'm her savior, fated to be in her life, her guardian angel. Could I really let her go anywhere without me?

No, I was underestimating her. She was smart and stubborn; maybe she could have handled herself with those thugs; maybe, if it weren't for me, she would have parked in my spot that morning and been out of harm's way. Maybe, if it weren't for me, she wouldn't need rescuing at all.

And yet, she attracted trouble like a magnet. I was proof of that.

But of all the dangers that fell into her path, I was the only one that had the desire, if not the fortitude, to keep her safe.

It occurred to me at some point that maybe Bella could somehow sense me nearby, and I was keeping her awake. I had just made up my mind to occupy myself elsewhere for a while when she pulled the covers back and, huddling into herself, scuffed noisily out of her room. Where was she going? I felt pulled toward her window. If I could just see... In a flash, I was up the tree just outside her room. I had never allowed myself that close to her personal space before, and the scent of her seeped out into the cold, night air. I inhaled the exquisite fragrance, feeling almost drugged by it, but then Bella returned with a blanket and looked directly at me.

How could I have been so careless?

The poor thing looked down and froze, and I took the opportunity to leave. It was what I should have done in the first place.

_She looked right at me! So stupid! Sitting right outside her window!_

"Alice," I called as I neared my house again, "can I speak with you?"

She appeared at the door, already aware of what I was going to ask.

_No, Edward, I don't know what you're supposed to do._

"But I'm going to go out of my mind!" I growled, trying to keep my voice to a level that at least some of my family wouldn't hear from inside the house. "I don't think it's right to get involved with the girl if her life is in danger every second I'm around her. She doesn't even feel comfortable around me, and honestly, I'm not exactly comfortable myself. But she would be dead now if I hadn't followed her to Port Angeles. She would have been dead twice-over now if it weren't for me. I feel like I have to follow her everywhere now!"

Alice raised her eyebrows at me.

_That's not exactly "staying out of her business," is it?_ she asked. I ignored her sass.

"Please, just make sure she isn't still in trouble," I pleaded. "I don't understand what's going on with that girl! Is she still going to Seattle this weekend? What's going on?" My voice had an unattractive, desperate tone. I was starting to sound a little unhinged. It was only a shade of what I felt inside.

"Uh-uh. No, no, no. You said not to look. Not to be invasive. You said not to get involved. I can't even talk to her!" My sister's tiny hands flailed wildly in exasperation. "No, I'm not going to be a perfect stranger to Bella and then spy on her future whenever you get curious or worried. You're just going to have to choose, Edward. Are we going to be involved in her life, or are we going to stay out of it?"

I looked out over our dark lawn, able to see its lush expanses even without the aid of moonlight, but unable to see what I should do.

"I just don't know," I answered. "How can it possibly be good for her if we're involved in her affairs? But then, she keeps finding trouble," I met Alice's eyes again, "and it feels like I'm the only one who can save her from it." I checked my words as my sister raised a brow. "_We _are," I corrected.

_Well, what do you believe? Do you think it's fate that this girl who can trip over her own shadow, who finds rapists in towns where rape doesn't happen, this girl falls into the hands of a super-strong, super-fast being with a special interest in her well-being and a clairvoyant sister?_ "Or," she spoke aloud, "do you think it's some cosmic joke, some dark twist of fate that the one person you just don't_ get_ is the one you _can't have_?"

She waited for my reaction, but I had none. I didn't know what I believed: was I Bella's savior or just one more negative attracted to her positive self? If only I could ask her! I hadn't quite made up my mind what to do next when Alice shared her mind with me again.

_I know you want to check on her, so go. Just promise me that, when you see her, you'll ask yourself, "Am I in, or am I out?" And if you're out, there won't be any more watching or looking or checking or following. You won't try to be her friend. I won't try to be her friend. But if you're in, I'm right there with you._

"Thanks, Alice."

She grinned.

"You're welcome!" she chirped and, for a second, I thought she was going to show me something in her thoughts, but then she began wondering rather loudly what Jasper was planning for their upcoming anniversary.

A few minutes later, I was preparing to climb my friend tree for perhaps the last time when I heard the welcome sound of slow, shallow breathing. Relieved to discover Bella had finally fallen asleep, I felt drawn toward the sound until I found myself again in the tree outside her bedroom. Underneath the covers, she had the blanket I had seen her get, wrapped around her body like a papoose. I wondered if that was effective and, in answer, she shivered. Without thinking, I reached out, slid open her window, and slipped inside.

Standing in her room was surreal. Her room was a private place; it was personal. It knew her secrets; it watched her sleep; it protected her and kept her warm.

Well, no, I conceded as I watched her chin tremble in a sort of unconscious chatter, it wasn't keeping her warm. But I could.

And after a quick look through the nearby closets, I found another blanket down the hall. I spread the blanket over the girl and stood back, watching and waiting.

It felt good to protect her. If no one else could keep an eye on her, I could. I never grew tired. While anyone else would have to sleep, leaving her vulnerable, I could keep constant vigil. I could hear any thoughts that meant to harm her. My sister could see any troubles lurking in her future. My brother Emmett was the strongest person I knew. If she grew afraid of me, my brother Jasper could calm her.

If I could only be bad for the girl, why did I seem so perfect for her?

Maybe it was true that she only attracted trouble because I was in her life. I hated to think that Bella could be weak in any way (beside the human-vampire comparison), so my presence seemed to be the most obvious reason for her needing help in the first place. But I had never asked to be in the girl's life. If anything, I had been trapped by her or by fate or by God or by whatever controlled the silence of her mind, the scent of her blood, and the way she drove me crazy every second she possibly could.

I watched from the rocking chair in the corner of her room as her shivering slowed. Maybe I didn't have to say goodbye. Maybe I could do more good than harm if I stayed in Bella's life. The thought gave me a rush. Suddenly, everything in me wanted to protect her where I was able, to take away her shivering, to make her smile...

And just then, Bella's little body relaxed. I had warmed her. Not with my icy touch, but simply by knowing what she needed and providing for her. And it was all I wanted to do.

I felt a smile spread my lips as I crept back out the window. All the way home, my resolve strengthened.

_I'm in. I'm in. I'm IN!_

Alice sat on the white couch in our living room when I rushed in the front door. She must have seen me coming and gone ahead to make sure Bella's weekend would go well, as I had asked earlier; her face was vacant.

"Alice?" I called as I entered the living room, knowing she wouldn't be able to hear me if she were seeing anything, but wanting to alert her to my presence, just in case. Her far-away gaze continued for another minute before she frowned, blinked, and looked up at me.

"I can't see anything," she said. "I looked and looked, and I just can't see anything. I'm sorry, Edward."

"How can you see nothing? I don't understand," I admitted.

"I don't know, it's not like she is deciding something and has several futures. It's all just foggy. Here." The vacant look returned, and I could see what Alice was seeing: a black mist, with glimpses of color and shapes here and there. It was like trying to tune in to a radio station that you didn't have reception to. The vision disappeared. Alice looked up at me.

_I'll keep trying. I'm proud of you for making a decision._ She smiled.

Part of me wanted to sulk. After all that, Alice couldn't even see anything? Now that I had decided to watch out for Bella, I couldn't even be sure that she was out of danger for the time being? But she _would_ keep checking Bella's future. And I would keep watching her present. And – this was the best part – we could even be friends! True, she would have to get over her fear of being around me, which was only natural after all, but I had plenty of time to work on that, now. And Jasper could help, if need be. Even Alice could help. I returned her smile.

The prospect of seeing Bella made the couple hours before school stretch out painfully like an unused muscle. It was funny how, after decades and decades in which hours passed in the blink of an eye, the early-morning hours that separated me from Bella felt like years. Would she let me talk to her? Would she still be shaken up from the night before? Would she be glad to see the person who had rescued her? When would her weekend firm up enough that we could check on her?

I watched her a little through her morning classmates and was pleased to see she looked fairly relaxed. She clearly had had a long night, but she wore an expression of fatigue rather than anxiety.

At first, this comforted me. But by lunch, Bella wasn't just relaxed, she was all smiles. How could a girl go through that kind of trauma and look as bubbly as she looked? Had she so quickly forgotten how close she had come to death?

Then, I heard her ask Angela about the upcoming dance, and I began to panic. She was thinking about the weekend already? Did that mean...

I hadn't intended to confront Bella about her plans for the weekend, but once I found myself standing at her table, I figured it might be wise. If if there were any chance of her still wanting to go alone to the city, I had to change her mind. I couldn't see yet if it were safe, and it just seemed like a bad idea.

As soon as Bella caught sight of me there and I crouched down to ask for her audience, I wondered if I had made the right decision. Up close, her smile looked plastic, like a mask over a weary face. Didn't it? I couldn't be sure; my eyes were playing tricks on me. As I asked Bella for a few minutes of her time, I heard her friend's concern.

_What does he want with her? She never said how he showed up with her last night, and she's been acting kind of funny..._

Oh, for the love of all that's holy, Angela suspected me of _messing_ with Bella! "Just for a second," I reassured her. _I won't run off with her into any dark corners_, I tried to express with my eyes as I looked into Angela's protective glare. Her face softened and a minute later, I had Bella away from prying ears (at least the human ones) at our own table.

Alone, Bella didn't look as well as I had perceived her through her classmates' eyes. Her skin was drained of color, which I found particularly unfortunate, and she had left her smiles at the other lunch table. But I had to be sure she was in no immediate danger. Alice couldn't see, and I had to be sure. And so I pressed forward.

"You aren't still planning on going to Seattle, are you?"

"What?" she asked blankly.

"Seattle," I repeated. "Saturday?" Was that a no? I felt a little hopeful as I asked again, "You aren't still going after what happened last night, right?"

But that was the wrong thing to say. Poor Bella's heart stuttered, and immediately I could hear her body showing signs of distress. She began gulping at air, gripping the table until her fragile little fingers looked like they might break. I hadn't mean to send the girl into a panic; to the contrary, I had meant to protect her from further stress. I leaned across the table and used my most persuasive voice.

"Hey. You doing okay?"

"I'm fine," she stuttered, and my hair stood on end. Bella was intelligent, kind, and clever, but she was not a talented liar. For some reason, "I'm fine" was exactly what she always said whenever she was terrified. She had said it after her almost-attack and, now that I had reminded her of it, she was repeating it now. The horror that I had taken her from at least _looking _relaxed and, in less than a minute, aroused a full-on breakdown shook me to my core.

_See, this is why you shouldn't be friends._ A voice inside me hissed. For a split-second, I believed it. But now, the reality was Bella needed a friend. _Shut up, _I hissed back. _I said I'm in, and I'm in!_

"Stay calm, Bella," I said, hoping my skills at persuading humans to do as I asked would help me – help _her_ – now. Her face was a heartbreaking collage of panic and pain and failing determination. Her eyes, unfocused, rolled over my face, her hands, and then back into her head.

Catching her was instinct. After that, I was pretty lost.

_To the nurse!_ Alice called across the cafeteria. _If you're quick, no one will see!_

Well of course I could be quick. But, to be safe, I kept to a mostly-human pace as I slung Bella's backpack over my shoulder, swept her into my arms, and made tracks for the nurse's office. Once away from the view of other students, however, I found my pace slowing.

Having Bella in my arms, _really_ in my arms, was the most pleasurable experience I could ever recall having. Sure, her blood was a temptation, but savoring it, protecting her, feeling her pulse against my neck – it was so sweet and could last so much longer than her taste ever could. Her weight was an easy burden for my strong arms. Her warm breath blew across my cheek like the brushing of an angel's wing.

She stirred.

"You passed out," I explained. I told her where we were headed using my softest voice, hoping not to frighten her by holding her against my cold body.

She didn't pull away. The night before, I had reached out to help her and she had flinched. Now, I held her in my arms and she rested her head against me as though I comforted her! My heart flew. I didn't want to let that moment go, but once we entered the nurse's office and I informed the nurse of Bella's ailment, the time came for me to put her down. It felt wrong, letting her go when she had just let me be that close. I ached to pick her up again, and the little moan Bella uttered from her cot did nothing to help me resist.

The nurse took over Bella's care. She was so distracted by me that I could have done a better job, but these sorts of things get documented, and it was her job after all.

"Did you see what led up to the spell?" she asked while presumably taking Bella's pulse.

"She said she felt stressed," I lied. I couldn't tell her exactly what Bella and I had been discussing, but I could lead her down he right path. "Something about staying up all night studying, then she started to hyperventilate."

The nurse nodded. "Kids these days are given so many responsibilities," she muttered. Bella stirred next to her, and the nurse went back to providing her patient care. She allowed Bella a little time to herself, but I didn't want to be dismissed, so I joined her in the lobby and attempted to keep her in conversation. I asked about nursing, claiming an interest in medicine. Given my father's profession, she found that unsurprising, but she told me all the reasons she loved her job and encouraged me to pursue my dream.

By the time we checked on Bella, she seemed vastly improved. The color had returned to her cheeks, and her heart had decided not to seize up after all. But when the nurse mentioned calling Chief Swan to pick up his daughter, Bella had a small relapse.

"No!" she screamed. Then, blushing, she mumbled, "No, I can drive myself home."

The nurse tried to explain to Bella that she could not drive home after a fainting spell, but the quickening heartbeat I heard told me that calling her father frightened Bella for some reason.

_This is one of those times I know her need. I can help._

"I'll drive her home," I volunteered. I used the voice that helped me get what I want, just in case the nurse needed convincing. She looked at me, and I smiled a little, looking very much the caring teenage boy with an interest in medicine. When she nodded, I thought my battle was over.

But Bella was feisty, just determined not to need help of any kind. She wouldn't let me drive her home, help her walk to her truck; she wouldn't even take my jacket for warmth. I had to follow her home in my own car, for once thankful to keep a slow pace since Bella was in no condition to drive at high speeds. I resisted parking outside her house to walk her in. Instead, I watched her let herself in the front door and returned to school, where I would need to pick up my siblings later anyway.

When I pulled into the school parking lot, I was surprised to find Alice waiting for me; the better part of an hour remained in the school day. As I parked alongside her, I grew alarmed by her panicked expression.

"It's Bella!" she gasped. "I see something, but I don't know what it means!" And at once, I saw flashes of something tearing, something burned, and then Bella's face, pale and blackened and bloodied and terrified.

"What is that?" I hissed, pulling myself out of the vision. Alice's face, however, remained blank. She said nothing.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" I roared, and venom coated my tongue, thick as bile.

Alice's eyes focused again, but her face remained a portrait of confusion and fear. "I don't know," she replied apologetically. She did not shy away from my outburst but instead matched my desperation. "I can't see it, but that doesn't mean we can't do something about it."

She cast me a careful glance, gaging my dedication to the path I had chosen that morning while Bella slept: we could do something about the vision – _if _I were really "in."

I looked her straight in the eye.

"Let's do it."

That evening, we explored plan after plan, hoping to stumble across a path that weakened Alice's vision of mayhem. Planning for me to talk to Bella, even at the expense of another panic attack, had no effect. Nor did Alice inviting Bella over, which was sort of a relief, given the amount of preparation our family would have to make, the possible repercussions of forcing a vampire-human friendship, and the fact that no one had any idea how Alice would entertain the girl.

My sister pouted and tapped her pencil against the note pad on the dining room table in front of her. The paper had as yet gone unused because she kept checking how her ideas would turn out before she had a chance to write them down, but she had been tapping her pencil on that thing for hours.

"Maybe it has something to do with the dance? We could get the dance cancelled..." I saw a pile of ash where the school gymnasium had stood, then a shift, and Bella's still-tear-stained face in a cloud of smoke.

_Damn!_

"Wait! Maybe we are looking too close to home. Is Bella doing any traveling?"

"I don't know," I grumbled, pacing the never-used kitchen. "How should I know?"

_I'm going to ignore that_, Alice rolled her eyes at me. "Maybe it's a flight. She would have to fly out of SeaTac..." and then her mind began churning different possibilities, different ideas, until finally...

Bella's face was stained with tears, but tears alone. No smoke. No soot. No blood. It was a foggy vision, but it was enough.

"Alice, you are a genius."

She grinned, jumping up from her chair.

"Thanks," she said jovially, "I try!"

I was afraid, on Thursday, that it would prove impossible for me to not ask Bella about her upcoming trip, to not plead her to stay, but she always had a knack for giving me exactly what I needed.

Despite the discomfort she had suffered the day before due to my causing her panic attack, Bella seemed in good spirits as she took her seat next to me in biology. The video Mr. Banner had begun Wednesday resumed, and while I had studied the topics at least a dozen times, Bella must have been a little lost, because she seemed to lose focus a few minutes in.

After holding her so close to myself on Wednesday, her scent was not nearly so hard to deal with. But the urge to be close to her again was stronger, and so I leaned away. I didn't need to tempt myself. Even from the far side of the lab bench, I could see her doodles. They took no shape in particular, just loops and curls, but I thought I could see her peeking at me out of the corner of her eye. Something warm bubbled up inside me in response.

After a moment, her scent seemed more pungent, her pulse quickened, and her breathing deepened. It didn't seem anxious, exactly. In fact, its effect on me was . . . arousing.

Intoxicated, I drew an indulgent breath of her glorious fragrance. Bella shivered, throwing off waves of air that was particularly steeped in her essence. My mind spun out in little fantasies: touching Bella's rosy cheek, feeling her warm lips pressed to mine, holding her trembling body in my arms...

I was completely caught off guard. I hadn't had that kind of response to a woman in many, many decades, despite a number of extremely forward attempts from Tanya. I had chalked it up to losing human desires with my humanity when, as it turned out, what was missing was a human! I repressed a chuckle.

But then, a rush of blood rose to Bella's face and, coupled with the other feelings she had inspired, the urge to take her some way or another peaked; for her sake and my own, I closed down my fantasies, held my breath, and shifted away from her once more.

After that, I couldn't have asked her about her weekend plans if I had had the opportunity.

Friday, Alice and I left school early to get started on our intervention plan. We had quite a few phone calls to make, and Alice thought we would be cutting it close. In order to keep Bella – and on second thought, her fellow passengers – safe, we had to convince the right people to do the right thing at the right time. If I had known how complicated it would be, I would not have been so at ease on Thursday. But perhaps it was just as well. It had been nice to see Bella's spirits pick up for a couple days, even if I knew it would be short-lived.

One problem was the complexity of Bella's future. After the first couple of phone calls, the vision of the plane crash was completely gone, but a new catastrophe waited in Chicago. As hours passed, we headed off one problem after another until, finally, the only crises Bella would have to face were a sleepless night, a ride home with a disturbingly young friend of the family as chauffeur, and the disappointment of a failed visit to her mother. I accepted the trade-off.

After all, I had decided to get involved.

* * *

**_A/N:_** And that's that. Hopefully that answered some questions you may have had along the way about wtf Edward was doing. Next chapter is back to BPOV, and yes, I _have_ started writing it. I do _not_ anticipate it taking four weeks to get it up. Thank you for your patience - I have really enjoyed checking my hits and seeing that people are reading even when I'm not posting now! And I always appreciate hearing from readers. :) See you next time!


	14. Someone to Watch Over Me

I had hoped to get this chapter up a little sooner, considering how long y'all had to wait for the last one. But all I have is excuses and a chapter, and no one's here for the excuses, so let's get on with it!

I added something to the story that I hope you will like. :)

As always, the title is a song recorded by Frank Sinatra, and those characters you love so much belong to Stephenie Meyer! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 14: Someone to Watch Over Me**

The weeks following my botched visit to Renee were some of the best and worst of my entire stay in Forks.

The fiasco had put me in a position to realize how much I appreciated Jacob Black and our friendship took root when he rescued me from the airport, blossoming from week to week as we spent more time together. We saw each other every weekend and, despite our different interests, we really hit it off. I couldn't recall having a closer friend in years, not since my best friend in Phoenix moved away in fifth grade.

But on top of my new friendship with Jake, I was growing closer to Angela, too. Twice over Spring Break, we had "girls' nights," indulgently involving most of a package of cookies and talking until two in the morning. Jessica had been spending most of her free time with Mike, which we were okay with for the most part; Angela and I had more in common with each other than either of us had with Jess. I discovered with delight that not only did Angela talk more in Jessica's absence, but conversation between the two of us was easier and more interesting.

I had even started becoming friends with Mike, much to my surprise. The Monday after my non-flight to Florida, he caught me going into school.

"Hey, Bella," he called with more energy than a Monday morning warranted.

"Hey, Mike," I grunted in return.

"How are you liking work so far?"

"Uh," I stumbled, "great. All three days of it." Mike laughed. I hadn't meant to be funny.

"Well my mom thinks it would be a good idea for us to work together a couple of hours a week, especially while you're in training. Does that sound good to you?"

"Sure," I agreed with a shortage of emotion.

"Cool." We reached English as the bell rang, cutting off our conversation there. While Mike and I saw each other at lunch, we were speaking less and less while Jessica was around, so it wasn't until we were waiting for Biology to begin that Mike got to finish what was on his mind.

"I was thinking I could work with you on Wednesdays for a couple weeks," he said, casting an annoyed glance at my lab partner, who, while not obviously listening in on our conversation, was close enough that he was sure to hear every word. "After that, we could take Saturdays together." I thought I saw Edward cast a glance at Mike and me.

"Sure, Mike," I said again. "It'll be nice to have a friend around in case Saturdays get the better of me." At least it would be easier to ask Mike for help than either of his parents. Mike took his seat with a chuckle.

That was also the day that Edward Cullen crossed over from freak to a state of normalcy. Granted, I was still intimidated by, oh, a hundred things he did and was; but he always made a point of giving me a half smile and a greeting at the beginning of Biology and a "See you later, Bella" at the end. No more tense postures or uncomfortable lunches or panic attacks or seeing him unexpectedly in public. I realized, of course, that bumping into him in Port Angeles had probably been a good thing, but whenever I stopped to think about it, I only felt nauseated - so seeing him just at the lab bench was how I liked it.

Things were looking up: I had two good friends, two okay friends, and a normal lab partner.

And I couldn't have felt more alone.

Every day, I went to school, went to work, came home, fixed dinner for Charlie and myself, did homework, and usually still had time to read or to talk to Jake or Angela before bed. And every night, as soon as my head hit the pillow, the torture began.

At first, it was just flashbacks and obsessive thoughts about the failed trip to Renee's. Revisiting the alley. Watching the airport clock strip away a badly-needed day of sunshine and balmy weather with every harsh stroke of its second hand. But then my depression and imagination ganged up on me and started feeding me negative thoughts and images of things that hadn't even happened. I would lie awake for hours, dreading going to school the next day, where I would have to pretend I fit in somehow. Everyone knew I didn't belong there. I hated cold weather, and I hated rain. I wasn't enough of a social girl to fit in with the kids at school. Even if I somehow got invited to a party someday, I probably wouldn't go. And if I did somehow go, I probably wouldn't have fun. Thinking these things, I would eventually fall asleep, and my dreams placed me in parties where everyone laughed at me for coming and told me to go home, or in Seattle, where I was promptly kidnapped and tortured, then entered as some bizarre museum exhibit.

I was tired all the time. I didn't enjoy school. The only reason I made the grades I did was due to my having already studied the topics in Phoenix or having already read the books in my spare time. During the day, I had things to keep me busy and, often enough, someone to talk to. But at night, I was alone with myself.

I hadn't realized that my depression showed, but it became clear when, the first Thursday in April, Edward Cullen broke his streak of giving me only polite hellos and goodbyes. I had been trying to take notes, but my mind had fuzzed out, leaving my pencil hovering idly over my notebook for a couple of minutes. I was startled by the voice in my ear.

"Are you doing okay?" Edward whispered, his voice so hushed and effortless I could hear him clearly but could tell just as easily that no one else could.

"Oh, just tired," I whispered back, trying to match his inconspicuous tone. "You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," he answered.

"You do?" I looked up from my notebook. It had just been a figure of speech; I hadn't really expected him to know how hard most kids work their junior year.

Edward glanced at me with a look of alarm that quickly morphed into confusion, then relaxed into his half smile.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I? High school is tough. I have homework and studying..."

"You just..." I struggled to find the words, staring back at my pencil, now at least pressed to paper, instead of watching his amused expression. "You seem like the kind of guy who just knows the answers. Never has to study."

He paused, seeming on the verge of laughter but choosing his words.

"I can honestly say that I have spent more time studying than sleeping this year."

Well, at least that explained the shadows under his eyes. Still, the thought of Edward Cullen studying late into the night surprised me.

It didn't occur to me until I was at work that afternoon that I must have looked terrible for Edward to spontaneously ask after my well-being in the middle of class. Was it my hygiene? Bloodshot eyes? I peeked at my reflection in the glass side of a case of pocket knives. I didn't think I looked that bad. Sure, I wasn't Mrs. Newton, all mascaraed and manicured with styled hair sprayed carefully into place, but I didn't have any zombie-ish qualities or anything.

I got into bed an hour early that night anyway. I tossed and turned for hours, as usual, the painful sense of being alone burning in my chest; but finally, sleep came... with a knife.

The dream was unlike those I had been having. There were no kids from school, no parties, no awkward social situations. There was only me, in the woods. Alone.

Alone except for the voice.

I was far enough into the woods that the green canopy overhead was beginning to block out the light of the sun. To one side of me, the woods got darker; to the other, bright light shone. As I looked, the light grew brighter and, out of it, a voice called.

"Come to me, Bella," it urged. It sounded melodic and even familiar, but my body twisted away from it. My feet began to carry me into the darkness.

"Don't go," the voice followed me. "Don't run away." At the word _run_, my feet picked up the pace. I was running into the dark, leaping over mossy rocks and downed trees, broken limbs threatening to trip me. Yet, I ran. Ahead of me I could almost see something, almost hear footsteps pounding on the ground. But it was too dark to make it out and the sound of my own feet drowned out any other.

"Please stay, Bella," the voice pleaded, and it sounded so sad and so honest it brought me to a halt. I turned back toward the light. It seemed just as bright as it had before, even though I had run deep into the woods. All around, everything was dark, but the light twinkled and shone, almost blinding in intensity. And then, behind me, in the darkness, came a long, piercing howl.

I was sitting up before I was even awake. I blinked my eyes, trying to focus on where I was. The light was gone, but dawn had broken. I checked my alarm clock: 6:34. I sighed through a yawn. Time to start another day. I showered and dressed quickly and grabbed a Pop Tart from the kitchen, but when I reached the front door, I stopped short.

There on my porch lay two bundles. One was a sort of cushion, piled high with rubber balls and stuffed animals and various little packages. The other was a crate, topped with a huge, pink bow. Inside it... was a puppy.

A puppy! Who would leave a puppy on my porch on a school day? I mean, who would leave a puppy on my porch on any day? I looked around for a note or something, explaining where she had come from (and, judging by the pink ribbons, pink collar, and pink dog bed, she definitely was a _she_), but there was no hint about this gift. Not a who or a how or a why. I knew Charlie hadn't left her for me, or she would have been inside. In fact, I was sure Charlie hadn't seen her at all – that was going to be a fun reveal later on. But I set to work.

I pulled the crate into the kitchen. As I pulled her along, the puppy pawed the door of the crate, sniffing my hand. Her little nose was wet, and it made me giggle to feel it tickle my fingers.

I returned to the porch and dragged in the dog bed full of treats. Unfortunately, whoever had dropped off the puppy had neglected to leave any real food with her. I pulled out a Milk Bone and passed it to the puppy through the bars of the crate, then filled a cereal bowl with water and slipped that into the crate too. I didn't like the thought of her being in a cage all day, but I couldn't just let her run around the empty house – I didn't even know if she were housebroken. It was the only option.

After I made sure the puppy was as safe for the day as she could be, I rushed to school. Thank goodness that dream had woken me a little early; after acquiring a new pet I still made it into English just before the bell.

All day I thought about the puppy. Where did she come from? What kind of dog was she? Was she really mine? How should I take care of her? I decided to stop at the library on the way home – since I would be working the next morning, I had that evening off at Newton's – and I started making notes in the margins of my notebook about questions I had and ideas I wanted to explore. I was thinking of names for the puppy that afternoon.

"What are those?" Edward whispered over my shoulder. "Baby names?" He cast a pointed glance at my midriff.

"Someone left a puppy at my doorstep this morning," I told him with a smile and a self-conscious hand over my abdomen. "I am trying to think of names for her."

"And 'Baby' is at the top of your list?" he asked, a note of teasing in his tone.

"Um, yeah. You know, the Baby left at my doorstep?"

He made a face and looked over the other names on my short list.

"Uh, Bella..." he began carefully, "don't take this the wrong way. But one day, when you have children, maybe you should leave the baby-naming to your husband."

* * *

After school, I went straight to the library. I really wanted to call Jacob before I did anything else, but I had to give him time to get home from school. I was jittery with excitement as I walked the aisles of books, picking out one on dog breeds and one on caring for a puppy. The library was more sophisticated than I would have guessed, serving as small a population as it did, and I looked forward to returning in the future, now that I had a library card.

I pulled out my cell as soon as I got back in my truck, on my way to one more stop before going home.

"Jake!" I exclaimed into the receiver. "You have got to come over! You won't believe what happened!"

Of course, I then had to explain the situation over the phone rather than show him – I had sounded so worked up that Jake thought it was an emergency – but with the promise of dinner, I got Jake to agree to come.

Jacob and Billy arrived shortly after I got home with a load of library books and a bag of puppy chow. They both fawned over my little dog, though she clearly preferred my company to theirs. Even though I knew it was ridiculous, when she was, after all, only a dog, this touched me deeply. She didn't know me any better than she knew the Blacks, but she scrambled and snuffed and slobbered at the sight of me, yet only sniffed in their direction.

We decided it would be best to keep her out of sight until we thought it was a good time to tell Charlie about her, so I started dinner while Jake carried the crate, bed, toys, and food into the laundry room. Billy wheeled into the living room and warmed up the TV. I joined Jake and the puppy while the casserole was in the oven.

"What kind of dog is she?" Jacob asked, as we sprawled out on the laundry room floor. The puppy was out of her crate (and, to my relief, apparently housebroken!) and exploring her surroundings.

"I don't know yet," I said. "I checked out a book on dog breeds I'm hoping will help." I pulled her into my lap.

"You got a name for her yet?"

"I was thinking maybe 'Baby?'"

Jake mimed gagging.

"Yeah, that's what this guy at school said, too."

"But I didn't say anything," he protested.

"Oh, yes, you did."

"Well what did you like about 'Baby?'"

"I just thought 'Baby left on my doorstep.'"

"Uh-huh. Any other ideas?"

"Maybe 'Portia?'"

"Like the car?"

"No, like she was left on my porch...-a."

He laughed. "Okay, but if you call her that, I will end up calling her Cayman or Boxster or something."

"Why?"

"Those are Porsches... never mind. Anything else?"

"Uh, I don't know." They all sounded stupid now that I was saying them aloud. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"She's your dog. C'mon. I know you have another idea. You're a terrible liar."

"Well... I was thinking maybe 'Dora.'"

"Because she was left at your door-a?"

I looked at the floor and my cheeks grew hot. He laughed louder.

"Or maybe because she's a-dora-ble!" he added helpfully, beaming at the dog.

"I'm not sure, though. Dora sounds like a kid's character."

"The Explorer?"

"Yeah."

A moment passed while the puppy clambered out of my lap and wandered around inquisitively. Jacob reached out and patted her on the head. "Florence," he murmured.

"Florence?" That was kind of a pretty name.

"Yeah, 'cause she'll be sleeping on your floor...-ence." Jake's face split into a grin. I groaned.

"Are you making fun of me?" I accused, stretching my leg across the floor to kick him in the shin.

"No, no," he protested. "Just trying to think like you if I'm going to contribute." I sighed loudly to let him know I didn't believe a word. The timer started going off in the kitchen, so I pulled myself up off the floor.

"There's something about 'Dora' that I like," I said as I pulled the door shut behind us, leaving Florence or Baby or whoever alone until the right moment. "I just wish the name fit her better."

"Well, you'll figure it out," Jake replied.

But first things first. I had to tell Charlie that we were a dog family now.

The table was set and dinner was hot out of the oven when Charlie pulled up. He was, as we expected, pleasantly surprised to find Billy and Jacob joining us, and I thanked God for the Blacks while we ate dinner: the guys were chatting so much it gave me time to think about how to break the news. Unfortunately, even with second helpings, I began to see that the dinner wasn't going to last long enough for me to decide what to do.

It didn't matter anyway. The puppy had her own plans.

Right in the middle of some joke Billy was telling about a man with a statue of a rat, a clatter rose down the hall. Jacob, Billy, and I tried to ignore it, but it was clear that Charlie had heard. Billy continued the story, however, speaking a little louder, "So the man turns around and sees a hundred rats this time..." The noise interrupted again.

"What is that?" Charlie asked, putting down his fork.

"What's what?" I asked innocently. Charlie glanced at me suspiciously and got up from the table.

Gulping, I followed him nervously to the laundry room door. I was not prepared for what was revealed as he threw the door open. The puppy had found the box of detergent and, upon getting it open, must have discovered it made a pretty little poof, because she had decided to tear it to pieces. It looked like a blizzard had hit the laundry room. And there, in the middle of it, was my new dog, looking very cute and very guilty. Charlie slumped against the doorframe.

"Well, this has opened up a whole can of worms," he groaned, giving me a look that said he knew exactly where that dog was going to be living.

But I smiled.

"She's our own little _Pandora_'s box!"

* * *

**_A/N:_** So, how was the change of pace? Any guesses what kind of dog Pandora is?


	15. Hey, Jealous Lover

Hello, again! I have been caught up in the _Hunger Games_ (property of Suzanne Collins, movie forthcoming from Lionsgate in _exactly one year omg_) casting. Hopefully they will settle on Peeta soon so I can get on with life and get our next chapter out quickly. Also, the site let me upload my docs but wouldn't let me post! I wouldn't mention it except that I was relieved to get the chapter done and had to wait a week to let you guys see it. Not a happy camper.

Thanks to everyone who left reviews/guessed what kind of dog Bella's puppy is! I got some really good guesses, but you are going to roll your eyes when she figures it out in this chapter. Don't blame me - I didn't come up with these characters! (Stephenie Meyer did. And the titles are songs recorded by Frank Sinatra.)

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 15: Hey Jealous Lover**

I returned to the forest that night in my sleep, but instead of waking to howling, I awoke to a heavy, tingling sensation in my feet. For a moment, I panicked, wondering what was wrong with my circulation, but then I realized there was a dog lying on my feet. _My_ dog. I scooped Pandora into my arms and pulled her up to my pillow. It wasn't yet five in the morning, and I hoped to still get some sleep. I yawned into her warm little body, slipping her soft ears through my fingers, and drifted back to sleep.

When my alarm went off at seven thirty, I felt better than I had any morning for the past several weeks. I had had more sleep than I had been getting, despite the nightmare, and I was excited at the prospect of getting to know Pandora better.

As I showered, I wondered what kind of dog she was. She had a widgy sort of face and long, flopsy sort of ears. She was reddish-brown all over, and her fur looked like it was too big for her, wrinkling and gathering all over her face and legs. But the best part was her eyes. They were so big and dark and beautiful it made me sad to think I wouldn't get to see her all day! She was still on my bed after I dried off and got dressed.

_How did she get up there?_ I wondered, now fully awake. _Charlie said she had to stay in the laundry room. Did he change his mind?_

She watched while I pulled on some socks and a jacket. Her pretty, brown eyes made me happy and sad at the same time. I jumped up from tying my shoes and grabbed the dog breeds book.

"Come on, little girl," I cooed, pulling the sweet, little puppy off my bed. "Let's go out before I go to work!"

Pandora sniffed and sniffed and sniffed around the house, so much that I thought I was going to be late. "Hurry up, Dora," I said, but she just fixated on the tree that stretched up to my bedroom. "Fine, pee there. That looks like a good spot!"

Pandora cocked her head at me but mercifully finished her business and followed me back into the house. I had just enough time to feed her breakfast and close her back into the laundry room for the day, but not enough time to feed myself.

There was a light drizzle rolling in when I arrived at Newton's. I left the breeds book in the car, not wanting to get a library book wet, and ran inside to find Mike already opening the register for the day.

"Good morning!" Mike was definitely a morning person.

"Hey," I said. "I'm not late, am I?"

"Don't think so. You hungry?"

"Famished." My stomach growled in agreement.

Mike grinned. "Good. I brought doughnuts!"

"Wow, thank you!" I said, finding the box and pulling off the lid. "Holy crow," I groaned, "there are like six kinds in here!" I was already licking some sort of jelly off my thumb. There were sprinkles and creams and glazes and everything a girl could want in a box of doughnuts.

"Don't eat all of them," Mike said at my elbow. "I might want one." He was teasing, but I kind of did want to eat all of them. I tore a piece off a cinnamony one. He could have the rest of that one.

"So what should we do first?" I asked. I took a bite of the cinnamon sugar doughnut. Wow, it was good. _Never mind, Mike can't have this one._

"Well, the shop looks pretty good, so we don't really have to do any cleanup. We can just hang out and eat and wait for customers for now." He pulled a chocolate pastry from the box and leaned against the counter. "You look like you're feeling better," he observed.

_I looked bad before? First Edward Cullen, now Mike._

Despite my shock, I smiled around my breakfast. "I got a present yesterday."  
"Oh yeah? What kind of present?"

" A surprise present," I said. "A puppy."

"Wow, no kidding?" Mike's eyebrows went up. "Who gave you a puppy?"

"I don't know!" I admitted. "She's really cute, though. I'm calling her Pandora."

"Aww, I love dogs. What kind is she?"

"I don't know that either. I have a book of dog breeds in my truck, but I didn't want to carry it through the rain."

Mike produced an umbrella, and half an hour later, we were reasonably sure that I had a bloodhound in my laundry room. The book said they were supposed to be friendly, gentle dogs. So far, that seemed about right.

By that afternoon, things had really picked up in the shop. We weren't swamped by any means, but we had a fairly constant stream of customers and already had five hundred dollars in sales by lunch. I felt bad about leaving Mike to handle it on his own, but he assured me that he was used to it and his mom was just a phone call away. He even gave the rest of the doughnuts to me so I could share them with Charlie.

The rain had stopped by the time I got home and took Dora out. She seemed to think everything smelled like the most interesting thing she had ever smelled, but at least she didn't fixate on the tree again. I wiped off her little paws when we got back inside, and I fixed myself a sandwich. Charlie was out – I couldn't remember where – so I called Jacob. He hadn't gotten up yet.

"I was going to invite you to come play with the puppy, but if it's too early in the day for you..." I joked.

"Well, no, but I still have to take a shower," he said, pausing to let me imagine either his gross boy odor or him taking a shower. I hoped it was the first. I wasn't sure it was even legal for me to think about him in the shower. "Maybe you could bring her over here?"

Before thirty minutes had passed, Pandora and I had arrived at Jake's little house on the reservation. Her little nose was going crazy. There must have been a lot of animal scents around, because after just a minute of sniffing this way and that, she whimpered and kept to my heels.

"What's the matter with her?" Jacob asked from the open door. He was only half-dressed and running a towel roughly over his wet hair. It hadn't occurred to me how much Jake was growing. He had to be closing in on six feet, and his bones were sticking out all over the place. He looked positively underfed.

"I think she's overwhelmed by all the smells," I said.

He opened the door wider to let us in. "I never really see dogs around here," he mused, "but I guess there's plenty of wildlife."

We flipped on the TV and grabbed some sodas from the fridge. I kept waiting for Jake to excuse himself to go finish dressing, but we got all the way through a _Fresh Prince_ and the Nanny was wriggling into her third leopard-print mini when I finally said, "You gonna put any clothes on or are you letting your skin breathe?"

Jake looked at me, pretending to be aghast. "But I always just wear shorts around the house!" This was not only a bad excuse but a lie. I had been over plenty of weekends during which I never once saw his bare chest. I just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine, fine," he said, raising his hands in defeat and backing away to his room. A moment later, he emerged in a sweatshirt, long pants, socks, and shoes, and looked exactly as overdressed as he intended. He took a seat next to me on the couch, but I said nothing. I kept my eyes trained on the TV as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I fought laughter as he got up to turn on the ceiling fan, sat down, got up for a glass of ice, and sat again. But when he mumbled something about hormones and hot flashes, I lost it. I broke into a fit of laughter so loud that Pandora woke from her nap on the floor and pushed her little nose against my knees.

"Okay, you can take off your shirt!" I gasped as I recovered from laughing, wiping a tear from my cheek.

"Finally!" he exclaimed, whipping the shirt over his head and pulling off his shoes for good measure. Dora sniffed dubiously at the shoes.

I rolled my eyes. Boys.

* * *

That week at school, Jessica hardly spoke to me at all. She and Mike were sitting at the far end of the lunch table, and the couple of times we did talk, she wasn't very friendly. I asked Angela about it, but apparently, they still chatted on the phone pretty regularly. Despite having given her my new cell number, she hadn't once called me.

Mike said something about it in work on Wednesday, but I didn't think much of it. She and I didn't really have much in common; maybe she had just realized this and moved on. Truthfully, I wasn't that torn up about it.

While I still had my moments where I felt depressed and out of place, Pandora had brought a whole new vitality into my life. I missed her while I was at school, talked about her at every good opportunity, and loved seeing her at home. Seeing how she reacted to new smells and situations delighted me. She was smart enough to learn a few tricks. I even told Edward Cullen about her, and he seemed genuinely happy to listen. She was just a special dog.

Charlie was right about her opening a can of worms, though. She had a tendency to get into things that weren't necessarily for her (we had to keep shoes in our closets) and if she caught an interesting scent, it was nearly impossible to drag her from it. She was especially fond of the tree outside my bedroom on her morning outings. And she was always underfoot in the kitchen – smelling each ingredient and hoping to catch anything that might otherwise land on the floor.

And so the week passed quickly. Saturday I was working with Mike again, and he brought a crossword puzzle and some croissants. For someone as vapid as Mike was, he sure was easy to get along with. He anticipated all my questions about merchandise, handled difficult customers without batting an eye, and had a whole arsenal of little things to do to keep us entertained during the slow periods. I hardly felt like I was working at all; by the time I went home, I felt more like I had been at a friend's house than earning a paycheck. He did ask me before I left if we could meet up on Monday to do homework, but it didn't occur to me until after I'd said yes that we wouldn't see each other at the shop that day.

As it happened, I didn't really see Mike in school on Monday, either. Jessica seemed really intent on keeping him focused on her all day. In Biology, he asked if we could do our homework Tuesday instead. I wasn't really clear on what he needed me for – we had a lab write-up due, but nothing especially difficult – but if he was having trouble, I was sure I would have a better understanding of the material and could help him grasp it.

Tuesday went much the same, except with more nasty looks from Jessica, so I guessed she had heard that Mike and I had a study session planned. Mike offered to pick me up from work, but I nixed that idea. Instead, I offered to drive to his house when my shift ended. This wasn't the best idea I ever had, because it placed me in Mike's house at dinnertime and, of course, Mrs. Newton insisted on my staying for dinner. Hours later, I escaped the Newton residence with a bag full of cookies, a very full belly, and only a vague feeling that I had accomplished any schoolwork with Mike at all. I had already finished my write-up, so it didn't matter to me, but the whole evening seemed somehow unproductive.

If I had thought Jessica was in a bad mood Tuesday, I was unprepared for Wednesday. It started in Trig. First, she made a point of ignoring me. When I didn't react and instead left being huffy to her, she began making excuses to walk across the room, bumping me as she passed my desk. It was immature and it made me angry, but still I said nothing. When the bell rang and I was gathering my books for Spanish, Jessica stomped across my toes on her way out.

"What is your problem?" I hissed, taking my seat in Spanish.

"My problem?" she whispered back. "My problem is you. We were supposed to be friends." Her lip curled in an unattractive way.

"Okay...?" I didn't know what she was getting at.

"Friends don't go around stealing friends' boyfriends," she whispered with a shake of her head.

"I'm not trying to steal your boyfriend, Jess."

"Whatever." Jessica rolled her eyes. "So you got a lot of work done last night, then?"

_Actually, no._ I bit my lip.

"Didn't think so," she hissed when I failed to respond.

"It's not like that. We're just friends. We work together; we have class together; that's all!"

"And this requires you to go over to his house at night." It wasn't a question; it was an accusation.

"Just for homework."

"Behind my back."

I gave a humorless laugh. "It was just homework!"

"Which you didn't do!" She jabbed her finger at my notebook. "Knowing you, you had yours done already. Why would you even have to go over there?"

"We were working on the same assignment," I insisted. "It was his idea!"

"And why would he ask you to come over to his house, at night, to work on homework you had already done?"

"Look, Jess, I don't know. I really think this is something you should discuss with Mike." I was getting frustrated. If Jessica had problems with Mike, I didn't see why I should be dragged into it.

"Oh-em-gee!" Jess exclaimed. "You are such a lying bitch!"

Our Spanish teacher appeared in the aisle between our desks.

"Ladies," she began, her voice firm, "may I see you outside for a moment?" My cheeks grew hot as we stepped out of the classroom. Our whole class watched us go. The door shut behind us. "Now, Miss Swan and Miss Stanley, I'm not sure what conflict you believe is important enough to indulge in a cat fight in my classroom. But unless you would like to find yourselves in _detention_," she paused for emphasis, "I would suggest you re-think the time and place for this discussion. Am I clear?" I was too mortified to make eye contact, but I nodded. Jessica must have, too, because the door opened again and we were allowed to slink back to our desks.

Jess didn't talk to me again.

At work that afternoon, Mike didn't talk much. After working in silence for a while, he cleared his throat and asked, "You can tell me it's none of my business, but has Jessica been acting strange around you lately?"

And I barely recognized my own voice when I replied, "Jessica who?"

* * *

**_A/N_**: That's it! I know it's a little short, but it's really not my fault the chapter ends there! What do you think? Is Bella going to stop being friends with Jessica? Is Jake flirting with Bella? Is leaving a purebred bloodhound at someone's door stalkerish behavior? Tune in next time to find out the answers to these and more on... _Old Devil Moon_!


	16. A Friend of Yours

I have been obsessed with two things lately: the _Hunger Games_ trilogy by Suzanne Collins and Breaking Benjamin. Luckily, the music is helping me write. If I were you, I would expect THG fics from me in the future. At first I thought canon was perfect and I couldn't change it, but I have started _getting ideas_ so it is a matter of time. Despite this, I bring you a sparkling new chapter!

I am pretty sure you are all going to string me up by my toenails after this one, so let's go ahead and rip off the bandage, shall we?

Stephenie Meyer gets all the credit for these fabulous characters and their associated material. All titles are songs recorded by Frank Sinatra.

* * *

**Chapter 16 – A Friend of Yours**

It was surprisingly easy to not speak to Jessica again after that. She got to our classes early so she could sit across the room. She never made eye contact with me or passed me in the hall. All I had to do is not chase her down, and with how she was acting, that was no problem at all. Poor Angela didn't know where to sit at lunch, though. I did feel a little guilty about that, but I reminded myself that I had done nothing wrong; it was Jess who had attacked me, and for things I hadn't done, at that!

Given that I was going through a figurative divorce from his girlfriend, I sort of expected Mike to distance himself from me as well, but he was just as friendly to me as ever, as long as we were outside of school. He seemed to have a little trouble keeping conversation going at work Saturday – and heaven knows I lacked the skills to keep it going myself – but he brought me an orange-cranberry muffin and a latte. I'll admit I had skipped breakfast that morning, hoping Mike's treats were a pattern I could count on for Saturdays, so I was doubly relieved that he still seemed to feel like we could be friends.

The weather was really starting to improve, so Angela and I made plans to go out around town on Sunday. It was that type of cloudy weather where the clouds are thick but here and there they break apart and the sun shines down in rays that make you think of angels singing, and Angela thought it would make some really interesting pictures. So we got a photo of the bistro tables outside the ice cream parlor, we visited the forested areas, and then we drove down to First Beach. Neither of us mentioned Jessica all day.

Angela dropped me off in time for a late dinner with Charlie, but he had already eaten half of the sausage-and-green-peppers pizza he had ordered and was stretched out comfortably on the couch. I grabbed a slice and went to let Pandora out, but I couldn't find her.

"Dad?" I started, stepping into the living room. But I didn't have to finish. There, curled up against Charlie's legs, fast asleep, was my puppy.

Charlie noticed I had caught him and gave me a sheepish grin.

"Her team was losing," he quipped in a whisper.

"Does she need to go out?" I whispered back.

"No," he said, turning back to the TV, "I took her out a while ago. I'll put her to bed when I go upstairs. You look tired."

"Angela and I went down to First Beach to take some pictures. I feel like I've been bathing in saltwater."

"Well why don't you go take a shower?" he suggested.

"I think I will. Thanks."

By the time I was clean and dry and ready for bed, Pandora had been locked away safely in the laundry room, as per Charlie's original agreement. She hadn't made any return appearances to the foot of my bed in the middle of the night, and I made it a habit to make sure her door was shut tight in case she got any ideas.

Maybe it was the late slice of pizza, or maybe it was my visit to the woods, but the nightmare returned that night.

Again, I was caught between dark and light: the depths of the woods loomed to my left, radiant light streamed on my right. I turned and ran into the darkness, but this time, the voice did not call after me. I rushed for the cover of darkness, passing trees and leaping brush, but the only sound was that of my flight. When I finally turned around, the light was still shining, just as bright as before, as if I had not left it behind in the least... but the voice was silent.

Confused, I stood there in a daze. I always instinctively ran from the light, but I could not outrun it. I always fled the voice, and now that it was gone, I was unsure what to do. Maybe, if I went toward the light, I could see who owned the voice. I started to go. But my feet would not budge. I was stuck in a pool of thick mud. I was in Candy Land, stuck in a Taffy Pit. I was in bed with a dog on my feet.

"Oh, Dora," I mumbled through a yawn as I pulled her up to my pillow. "Next time you magically appear in my bed, stay off of my feet, hmm?" Pandora licked my nose drowsily in response, and I returned to sleep.

I was in a good mood when I woke up for school. It was a beautiful, sunny day and I could smell the sweet breeze before I even got out of bed, despite having a dog very near my face. How she had gotten there, I wasn't quite sure, but I was thankful Pandora had been nearby during my nightmare. After I got dressed, we went outside and she did her usual sniffing routine. I did a little sniffing myself, absorbing the warm, spring air through my nose and lungs. It was definitely going to be a good day.

The morning went well. I did notice Jessica slinking into Trig late, looking a bit flushed and flustered, but for the most part my classes were easy and uneventful.

At lunch, I took my usual seat at the opposite end of the table from Jess, but instead of joining me, Angela stood at my side and leaned over my elbow.

"They broke up this morning," she whispered furtively. I glanced at Angela and followed her gaze down the table. As we had been for several weeks, we were positioned at one end of the table, and Jessica sat at the other. But Mike was in the middle, neither near us nor near Jess, engrossed in conversation with Eric and otherwise oblivious to whoever else might be eating lunch in the vicinity.

"He dumped her," Angela continued. "Would you be upset if I sat with her today? I think she needs a friend."

I shook my head, trying to tear my eyes from Jessica, who was staring dolefully at her fruit cup. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Angela walk around the table to join Jess, who barely noticed she was being visited. She really did look like she needed a friend; I almost went to her myself until I remembered the last thing she had said to me. No, it wasn't _my_ fault we weren't friends anymore. I hadn't done anything! I had never betrayed Jessica and I wouldn't keep Angela from being friends with her, but no one was going to find me trying to cheer her up today. On the other hand, I suddenly became aware of how lonely it was at my end of the table. I looked around the lunchroom and ate my apple. The usual gang was at my table, of course, and I had learned all the students' faces well enough that I could place which grades they were in even if I didn't know names yet. The only people I really noticed were missing were the Cullens, and their absence didn't surprise me much. Otherwise, the breakup in our little clique seemed to be the most dramatic thing to be going on at the moment, and all the drama had subsided into awkward seating arrangements.

The new lunch seating didn't bother me at first, but after a few days of it, I started feeling like a pariah. Neither of my friends would sit near me due to this Jessica thing, and I didn't know anyone else well enough to jump in on the conversations. Besides, I could only hear some of what was being said from my end of the table. So I mostly focused on my food and looked around the lunchroom. Lunch was becoming the loneliest part of my day.

Something Angela had said over the phone Monday night made me anxious to talk with Mike at work on Wednesday. As soon as I had the chance, I went for it.

"Did you break up with Jess because of me?"

I hadn't meant for it to sound quite like that, but there it was.

Mike gave me a funny look. For a second, I thought he was going to get mad at me, tell me it was none of my business. But then he said, "Sort of."

"I broke up with Jessica because she is crazy and I don't want a crazy girlfriend. So in that way, it had nothing to do with you. But the thing she acted so crazy about was you. She was always talking about you, always asking if I'd seen you or talked to you, what we did together at work... about as jealous and suspicious as you can be, and it's probably my fault because I was the one who told her I asked you out first."

"Wait," I interrupted, "you told her _what_?"

"I know! Dumb, right?" Mike thumped his forehead with the heel of his palm. "She hadn't gone all crazy about you yet, had just said something kind of negative about you, and I told her that I asked you out first but you told me to ask _her_ out. I thought she would see what a great friend you were, how you were looking out for her and everything."

"But then she's like your second choice," I told him. I didn't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, but that was obvious even to me!

"I think that's exactly what she thought," said Mike, "because after that it was like an obsession." He took a few moments to reflect while he broke a roll of pennies into the register. "Anyway," he said at last, "I don't need to be in a relationship like that. So I broke up with her. It's too bad... I liked Jess when she wasn't acting crazy."

I didn't think the drama llama arriving at school would shake me up the way it did, but when I awoke Thursday morning with Pandora lying across my legs – a sure sign that I had had a rough night again – and a pounding headache, I realized that I was harboring a strong desire to skip school. By lunchtime, I was fantasizing about ways to fake sick the next day. It was awkward and lonely at my end of the table.

I was staring at my untouched sloppy joe when an unfamiliar voice jingled from across the table, "Can I sit here?"

Caught off guard, I peered up at the source of the voice with a confused frown. An expensive-looking blazer and jeans swaddled the tiniest, perkiest Junior to ever grace the grounds of Forks High. She was a Cullen, that much was obvious, but I couldn't remember her name. Why would she sit at my table when she always, _always_ sat with her family? I glanced at the Cullen table and found it empty.

"Uh . . . sure," I mumbled, looking back at the pixie in front of me. "I don't think we've met. I'm -"

"It's nice to meet you, Bella," the girl interrupted with enthusiasm. "I'm Alice. My family was supposed to all go to lunch together today, but _I guess _I was late getting out of class because they _seem_ to have gone without me!" She rolled her Cullen-yellow eyes, but her sarcasm was ruined by her beaming smile and good-natured demeanor. As she took a seat, I noticed she clutched only a water bottle.

"You don't have a lunch now?" I gathered. That hardly seemed fair. Missing a ride shouldn't mean starving all afternoon. I looked down at my sloppy joe, still whole, next to a pile of carrots and a bottle of juice. It wasn't fancy, but it was something, at least. "Do you want some of mine?"

Alice leaned across the table and touched my sleeve lightly with her lithe fingers in an intimate gesture. "Oh, Bella!" she exclaimed. "You are so sweet! But no, I'm fine; thank you!"

It was odd how, despite some obvious similarities between Alice and her brother Edward, they were clearly very different people. As I tucked into my lunch, I was entertained by Alice's easy chatter and lively air. In between funny little stories about her family, she asked about me: What was my favorite subject? Did I have any pets? Did I feel at home in Forks, or would I rather go back to Phoenix? They were different questions than I was accustomed to being asked, and so I thought in earnest about my answers. I loved Biology, as long as blood was not involved, but I also loved literature, so English was probably my favorite. I had recently acquired a bloodhound puppy who was quickly taking over my home and the hearts of everyone in it. I didn't feel very much at home in Forks, but there was little left for me in Phoenix anymore, so I guessed I was searching for a home, in a sense. Alice seemed intrigued with every answer. Talking with her came so easily that I was shocked when the bell rang to signal the end of lunch; I had barely noticed the time!

My spirits lifted by my lunch companion, the afternoon passed quickly. After a couple of hours of work and a little walk with Pandora, I decided to fix breakfast for dinner and whipped up some eggs and sausage for morning quesadillas. When Charlie got home, we ate dinner on the couch and watched TV for a while. Then I finished my homework and talked to Jake for a little bit before bed. I felt like a completely normal teenager.

Alice joined me for lunch the next day, too, despite her family having returned to their regular table. "I'm teaching them a lesson," she confided.

Somehow Alice got the idea that I might want some new shoes in the future, "And since we're friends now, I think you should let me buy them for you!"

"What? No, don't do that!" I protested. "I like the shoes I have now!" I tried to peek inconspicuously at my sneakers under the table. Come to think of it, they did look pretty rough, but I had just met this girl. There was no way I was going to let her buy me shoes. Judging by how she looked, they would be some fancy label that would cost a fortune and turn my ankle.

"Ohhh, pleeease? You have no _idea_ how much allowance I get!" Somehow, I didn't think she was bragging. "What are you, a size 8? I know just the pair!"

Unfortunately, that was the moment the bell rang, soa correct guess of my shoe size was the last thing Alice Cullen said to me before the weekend.

Monday, there was a box in my locker. After cursing myself for not locking the thing, I extracted the box. "Coach," said the top.

_Good grief. Alice._

Taking a calming breath, I braced myself and opened the box. To my surprise, the shoes inside were not pointy or heeled or scary in any way. In fact... I liked them. My only complaint about the black sneakers was the designer label emblazoned across the side, a status symbol I wasn't excited to wear. Aside from that, they looked cute and comfortable and completely my taste. I was amazed.

I had hoped Alice would join me for lunch again so I could thank her, but she was back at her usual seat, surrounded by her strange family. The idea of approaching her table to thank her was intimidating, but I didn't want to be rude. I finished lunch a little early, gathered myself, and made the walk across the cafeteria. Four pale faces turned in my direction. The fifth, the blonde girl, stared disinterestedly to her left, where Edward sat. Edward and Alice both smiled warmly, and the biggest of the Cullens said, "Welcome to the Hotel California. State your pleasure!"

I blinked, trying to decipher what I had been greeted with, but Alice came to my rescue.

"What Emmett means is, 'Hi, Bella! What's up?' Do you like your shoes?" She looked pointedly at my feet, which were still clad in my scuffed-up All Stars.

"Yeah, actually," I said. Then, trying to make it sound less like an "I'm surprised" sort of actually and more like a segue into a new thought, I added, "...that's exactly why I came over here. To thank you. They are a really generous gift." Four pairs of eyes watched me. "Are you sure I can't pay you back for them?"

The big guy, Emmett, threw his head back and laughed. "You want to rob Alice of the pleasure of giving people things they never wanted in the first place? If you pay her back, all she got to do was shop."

The shorter brother I didn't know spoke up in a reassuring tone. "Alice does this for everyone, Bella. There's no need to pay her back, even if she were to give you a car." He ran a hand through his blond hair and looked around the table. "In fact, didn't she give someone a car last year?"

The boys laughed. Even the blonde girl seemed to be paying more attention. But Alice looked scandalized.

"That's not true! I just wanted to get Bella some shoes, okay? I thought she would like these."

"I do!" I interjected. "I just didn't want to have to carry around my old shoes all day. I'll wear the new ones tomorrow; I swear!" I felt my face begin to glow.

"That's okay," Alice said with an apologetic smile. "Wear them whenever you feel like it. Really." She gave a meaningful look to the blond boy. Suddenly, I felt a lot better. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she asked, and something told me she meant it.

Alice didn't sit with me at lunch Tuesday, either, but Mike did. He seemed out of place, having spent so long at the other end with Jessica, then pointedly seating himself in the middle. He didn't appear to have brought any of his retail chit-chat with him, either. All the small talk from our shifts together at the shop apparently depended on the fragrance of citronella and sunscreen. He said hi, asked me how I was doing, and then we lapsed into an awkward silence as we ate our lunches. Every so often, he glanced at the clock on the wall. As time passed, Mike grew fidgety. Finally, about five minutes before the bell, he placed both his hands on the table and looked determinedly at me.

"Bella, there's something..." he faltered, glanced down the table, swallowed, and began again. "There's something I want to ask you."

I wasn't at all sure about wanting to hear what was on Mike's mind, but I managed a little nod that he should continue.

"I was wondering if you would..." he hesitated, "_please_ go to the Prom with me?"

A lump formed in my throat and my cheeks burned.

"Uh..." I stammered. "I um, thanks, Mike, but I don't..." _Come on, brain, just say it!_ "I don't do dances, Mike. I don't think so."

The lump in my throat moved to my stomach as Mike's face fell.

"Oh..." he said. "Well, okay then." And he looked sadly at his tray as he stood to leave.

In biology, Edward broke our tradition of greeting each other with a simple, "Hi, how are you?" First he passed along greetings from his sister. Then he passed along gossip.

"I heard Mike Newton asked you to Prom and you turned him down," he said, opening his notebook.

The heat that had only recently left flooded back to my cheeks.

"Good news travels fast," I grumbled.

Edward chuckled in his melodic way. It still struck me as strange, but I was getting used to it.

"You aren't actually planning a trip to Seattle or anything instead, are you?" he asked. He turned in his seat to face me squarely. It was an honest and powerful gesture, and it made me uncomfortable. I heard the warning in his question.

"No," I answered truthfully.

Edward relaxed, turning back toward the front of the classroom and leaning forward over the lab bench. "Good," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper as class began.

I thought the conversation was over, but only a few minutes into taking notes on plant hormones, Edward leaned toward me again.

"Are you just not going to Prom?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Nope," I whispered back, not taking my eyes off the dry erase board and my notes.

"Why not?"

"I don't dance."

"So? I think you should go."

"And why is that?"

"Because," he answered, tilting his head toward me, "there are so few events in a person's life that they only get to experience in their teens, and Prom is one of them. You'd be cheating yourself if you didn't go."

My eyes flickered away from my notes for a second. Was he being facetious? Because he had an excellent point, but it wasn't the kind of argument I expected to hear from a seventeen-year-old boy. I expected to find a smirk sprawling across his face, his eyes traveling back and forth between the dry erase board and his notes, as mine had been. Instead I found his eyes trained on me alone, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'm not saying you'll have the time of your life," he added, his features softening a little, "with your choice in date." He rolled his eyes over his shoulder to indicate Mike. "I just think you should consider going to your Junior Prom."

"Even if I don't dance?"

"At least you won't wonder for ever if you missed the best night of your life," said Edward as he turned back to the front of the classroom.

That night after work, I called Mike. In a little over two weeks, I would let him escort me to the Prom. Surely I wouldn't regret it... Right?

* * *

**_A/N:_** Oh, yes she did! But at least we finally got some Alice! Can I get an amen?


	17. A Fine Romance

Welcome back!

I have officially started writing some fics for _The Hunger Games_, so if you are a fan, stay tuned; I will start posting in the near future! (And if you aren't a fan, you clearly haven't read the books!)

Well if you recall, when we last saw Bella, she had just decided to accept Mike's invitation to the Prom. Let's see how that turned out!

All characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer. All titles are songs recorded by Frank Sinatra.

* * *

**Chapter 17: A Fine Romance**

"Hey, DoDo!" Jake's voice rang with the slam of the front door. I flew downstairs to greet him, finding him crouched on the floor, petting my little dog (who was well on her way to becoming a _large_ dog). I stopped in my tracks.

"Did you just name my dog after a bird _so stupid _it _died out?"_ I went to punch him in the arm but just then he stood, unfolding his frame until he towered over me.

"Wow," I gaped, "you're still growing!"

"Six-two," he grinned, curling an arm around me in a hug of greeting. My head barely reached his shoulders. "So how was Prom?"

"It was okay," I said, leading the way into the living room and turning on the TV while Jacob draped himself across the couch.

"You have fun?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Pretty much everyone I know was there."

"That's cool. Did you dance?"

I laughed. "Me? No. Actually, I was surprised how many people really didn't dance. Mostly everyone sat at their tables. They only got up when their favorite songs came on."

"Yeah," he nodded. "That's how dances are at my school, too."

"You go to dances at your school?"

He gave me an odd look. "Sure."

I bit my lip. I guessed it was pretty normal to go to school dances; it was just funny to picture Jacob at one. He seemed like the type who would show up wearing a tee shirt. And not one of those tuxedo tee shirts either. Just a regular one.

"So..." He flicked through the channels. "Did you... wear a dress?"

"What else would I wear?"

"Well did you get pictures?"

"No." Other people had, but he didn't need to know that.

"Well?" He looked at me, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Can I see it?"

"The dress?"

"Duh."

"Uh... I guess," I stammered, rising from my chair and heading for the stairs. I had expected Jake to wait for me downstairs, but instead he followed me to my room.

The dress, which I hadn't cared for enough to hang up and send out for dry cleaning but had respected enough to not leave crumpled on the floor, lay draped across the rocking chair in the corner of my bedroom. I picked it up by the straps and held it in front of my shoulders. The soft, blue fabric shimmered in my hands and the beadwork that extended up the straps also bordered the sweetheart neckline._ Please don't make me show you the back._

Jake looked the dress over as if appraising a painting. "Turn it around."

I started blushing before he could even see the back. The dress was basically backless. The beaded straps criss-crossed twice, covering little until the small of my back, from where the fabric fanned out in long, gentle pleats to the floor.

"Wow," he said appreciatively. I could tell he was imagining it on me. If he asked me to model it, I was calling it quits. "You picked it out yourself?"

"Actually, a friend picked it out for me. She asked if we could shop together, but I don't really like shopping, so then she offered to buy it for me. All I did was give her the money Charlie gave me for the dress, and she brought back this."

"Wow, that was generous of Charlie."

"I know. A hundred dollars for a dress is ridiculous, but prom dresses don't come cheap."

Jake chuckled. "Ah, Bella, I'm no expert at this..." He fidgeted with the ends of his hair, which fell loose around his shoulders. "But I have been around for several prom dress purchases and, unless your friend found a really good thrift store or something, there's no way she got this dress for a hundred dollars."

I blinked at Jacob, then at the dress. He had a point. The beadwork was perfect, the fabric felt luxurious, and the design was somewhat original. It showed no signs of previous wear. It was new, and it was well made.

"Alice!" I hissed under my breath.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing." I placed the dress back on the rocker, then thought the better of it and found a hanger in my closet.

"So did your date at least treat you in a way worthy of the dress?" Jake pressed on.

"Yeah, actually," I replied, turning from the closet. "He picked me up, gave me a corsage, the whole nine yards."

"Take you to dinner?" We were headed back downstairs, and the pressure of the dress was lifting with every step toward the noise of the TV.

"Yeah, he tried to take me to Port Angeles, but -" I started. _But then I thought I saw my weirdo lab partner and almost jumped out of my skin._ "But I thought it would be better to stay in town."

"In town?" Jake asked dubiously, resuming his spot on the couch. "Like what, McDonald's?"

"The coffee shop."

At this, Jacob succumbed to a fit of laughter so intense, he actually clutched his belly and fell off the couch.

"As a matter of fact, it was kind of nice," I said defensively. "He had steak and I had salmon, and the waitstaff even brought us cobbler on the house in honor of the Prom."

But Jake only chuckled more.

"Mike tried to take me somewhere nicer, Jake," I reminded him, a little annoyance in my tone. "I was the one who wanted to stay in Forks."

Slowly, the giant on my floor regained his composure. Wiping tears from his cheeks, all six feet and two inches of teenaged boy clambered up and again reclined on the couch.

"Let me know if he ever wants to take you to the movies," he said, eyes on the TV. "I've always wanted to know what it was like to sneak in through the exit."

* * *

The school year finished up well. Sometimes I ate lunch with Angela, sometimes with Mike, and even Alice joined me a couple more times before the summer. We were getting a good bit of fair weather, so more and more the Cullens were out "enjoying the effects of the sun" as Alice put it – whatever that meant – but I still saw her often enough that I was pretty confident I had another friend in Forks.

My exams went well, and I was looking forward to making some money at Newton's over the summer. Mike was looking forward to something else entirely.

"We had fun at Prom, right?" he asked as we opened up the shop that first Saturday of the summer. I held the mochas while he unlocked the door.

"Sure," I agreed, thinking back to Edward's prediction that it wouldn't be the _best_ night of my life, but one I should experience nonetheless.

But when Mike said, "We should go out again," I was speechless. He cut the lights on and I put down the drinks to open the register.

He wanted to... _go out_? Like, on a real _date_?

"I dunno, Mike," I swallowed hard. "I work for your parents and all..."

"It's not like we'll treat you better than our other workers!" He laughed, spreading his arms to indicate that we were the only people in the store – the only employees, period.

"But you dated Jessica. Friends don't date each other's boyfriends or exes or whatever..."

"But you're not friends with Jess anymore." He looked square into my face, serious now. "And neither am I. And aren't we friends?" It sounded like a rhetorical question, but the pause grew long, so I nodded. "So how can you let something like the fact that I dated a girl who you aren't friends with get in the way of going on _one _date with someone who has been your friend this whole time?"

I couldn't think of a good argument against it, so I told Mike I would think about it. Truthfully, I just wasn't that attracted to Mike. Sure, he was a good-looking guy and everything, and we had fun working together, and he had treated me well at the Prom; but I just didn't feel like we had anything in common. What would we even do on a date?

That was when I started hearing Edward Cullen's voice in my head. _You're about to be a Senior in high school and you've never been on a date_, he said. _If you don't go out at least once, you'll be cheating yourself._ I shook the voice away, but the message stayed. What was I afraid of? Even if the date was terrible, the worst that could happen was Mike wouldn't ask me on a second date, and that wasn't bad at all!

By July, I had been on six bad dates with Mike and realized the real problem was the prospect of dumping my bosses' son. By August, Jacob and I had decided the best plan of action was for me to be so dull on dates that Mike would stop asking me out. By the end of the summer, Mike had very sweetly broken up with me. He really liked me, he said, but he didn't think we made a very good couple – I was much more fun to be around when we were just friends! He he he.

In the meantime, Pandora had completely changed Charlie's house. She no longer fit in her crate at all, and while she still spent time on her pink bed in the laundry room, she preferred to sleep on mine. No longer the little puppy I had found on the porch, she took up half my bed; but, with her by my side, I rarely had any bad dreams. Since Charlie had grown attached to her as well, he pretended not to notice that she slept in my room. He also pretended not to notice when she ate whatever snacks he left on the coffee table in the living room. Or when she thought one of the couch cushions was conspiring against her, and she silenced it by pulling out its stuffing. Or when our game of Sorry got cut short by her sudden decision to discover what my tokens tasted like. Or even when he couldn't hear the announcers on his game because some invisible animal outside was causing her to howl like a banshee for a solid forty-five minutes.

Because, when she wasn't howling or swallowing or attacking or pilfering, she was loving us with every bit of her bloodhound heart. There wasn't a worry we could have that wouldn't slip away the second we got home to those big, brown eyes and wagging tail.

Charlie and I were in love with that dog.

She enjoyed company, too. Several times over the summer, Angela came over for girls' nights, and Dora would follow her around like a balloon on a string. She adored Jake and Billy, whom she saw at least once a week, as they were always coming over for dinner or, in Jake's case, coming over to do nothing at all (except perhaps grow another inch). In fact, the only time she wasn't completely ecstatic to greet company was the one time Alice came over. Dora sniffed in her direction but wouldn't even come within petting distance. Alice took it all in stride, but I was a little disappointed that my dog would snub my friend that way.

Still, I discovered that my dog was the most forgiving person I knew. Every time I had to drag her inside from sniffing all over creation, she whined until my heart broke, and then she pulled out a toy (usually a plush bear, which had been in her stash when she'd appeared on our porch) and forgot all about the scents I was making her miss. Once, I forgot to feed her before I left for work, and I returned home to the sight of her sleeping on top of her empty bowl – dreaming of breakfast, no doubt. She never growled at me in punishment, never shunned my petting hand; instead she accepted my apology, my can of Mighty Dog, and half my bed that night.

The last week of summer, Charlie asked me to take the weekend off to go fishing with him.

I tried not to wrinkle my nose in distaste as I answered, "I'll think about it."

"I can talk to the Newtons if you don't think they'll let you off," he offered.

"I'm sure they'll let me off, Dad, it's just . . . Don't you normally get up at, like, four to go fishing?"

"We can wait till five, Bells. It won't make too much of a difference."

_You can say that again._

"Why don't you see if Jacob wants to go? I thought it would just be me and you, kiddo, but Billy's been asking me about this weekend and we could just make a party out of it."

Though I was dubious about the so-called party, I did find myself on the phone with Jake an hour later.

"You won't believe what Charlie asked me -"

"To go fishing this weekend?" Jacob interrupted.

"Yes!"

"Are you gonna go?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "Are you?"

"If you're in, I'm in," he answered.

"Really? I didn't know you could get up that early on a weekend." I wasn't even joking.

"Ha. Ha. I'll just pretend it's a school night Friday and go to bed early. Piece of cake. Besides, I haven't seen you in like..."

"A week?"

"Yeah. Forever!"

I laughed. "Okay, well I'll see you this weekend."

"'Kay. See ya. Oh hey – Bells?"

"Mm?"

"Wear a swimsuit."

* * *

I knew I had fished with Charlie before, but I must not have remembered it well or I wouldn't have agreed to go. We made our way out to the pier long before the sun rose, the air was chilly and smelled sort of stale, and my fishing line did such a good job of not catching anything that I wondered why my supervision was needed. There was some excitement when Jake felt a pull on his line, but the mass of seaweed he reeled in didn't look like it would taste good fried up.

When the sun peeked above the horizon, I started to recognize my surroundings. We were just down the road a little way from First Beach. I stood up, stretched my stiff legs, and walked over to Jacob's super-lucky fishing spot (which was still considered lucky since, though it was inedible, his catch remained the only catch of the day). I bumped him with the toe of my sneaker.

"You wanna go for a walk?" I asked.

Jake was on his feet more quickly than I expected for someone who had, until then, seemed half-asleep.

"We're just gonna walk down to the beach," he announced loudly, already off the pier and making distance.

"Okay," called Charlie without looking up from his line. "Oh, Bells!" He reached into his tackle box and pulled out a little bottle. Tossing it to me, he said, "You might want to put some of this on."

Sunscreen. I chuckled. There was barely any sunlight at all, and he thought I might get burned.

"Thanks, Dad!" I called, tucking the bottle in my pocket, and off we went.

The beach was quiet and peaceful in the early morning light. Jake pulled off his shoes and socks and motioned for me to do the same. I rolled my jeans up to my knees for good measure. The sun was warming the sand quickly, still trying to prove that fall had not come yet, and Jake pulled off his sweatshirt. I had only a bikini top under mine, and it wasn't quite warm enough to strip down that much, so I left mine on. Carrying my shoes in one hand, I joined Jake at the shoreline, walking along the breaking waves.

"I'm sorry you're so broken up about Mike," he said above the noise of the ocean.

I shook my head and laughed, making to swat him playfully with my shoes, but he dodged the blow.

"It was a terrible idea," I confided after a moment. "I'm never dating again."

Jake gave me a look of alarm. "Never? That's intense."

I pursed my lips and reconsidered. "Well, not out of fear of hurting the guy's feelings, or fear of his parents, or to get experience, or to rescue myself from some sort of regret," I amended.

Jacob nodded and slogged through the sand to a driftwood bench. Taking a seat beside him, I added, "I guess as long as I really like the guy, dating wouldn't be out of the question."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jake's face turned toward mine at that moment, and I became uncomfortably aware of the significance of our conversation. I fixed my eyes on a cliff at the end of the beach. I cleared my throat.

"There's a road that goes up there?" I gestured, and Jake's eyes snapped in the direction I indicated.

"Yeah," he replied. "You can take the road to a couple points up there, actually. Some people drive up and go cliff diving."

"Into the water?" I cried, incredulous.

"Sure. It's like a high diving board."

"Into a freezing, rocky ocean," I muttered. Jacob laughed.

"I'll take you sometime. You'll see."

"No way! I'd break my neck!" I couldn't tear my eyes from the high, sheer face of rock.

"We'd take the low cliff, Bella," he said calmly as he gestured much closer to the sandy shore. "I wouldn't put you in any danger." He faced me again and smiled, and at that moment the sun peeked above the trees at our backs and shone across his face. It was so easy to forget that he was just fifteen, especially when he stood and dusted the sand from his cargo shorts. He towered above me; no longer did he have that underfed look I had noticed in the spring. I wouldn't exactly call him muscular, but he was definitely gaining some definition in the chest and shoulders and – I was staring at him! I was staring at Jake's body! Heat flushed my face as I tore my eyes from his abdomen. _He's too young and he's your friend and he is _too young_ and -_

"Hey," his voice broke my train of thought, "you still have that sunscreen? You should probably get some on; you're looking kind of pink already."

I nodded feebly, deliberately keeping my eyes on anything but him, grabbed the bottle of sunscreen and began applying. After covering all my exposed areas, I figured I had probably better get the skin around my suit as well, while I had the lotion out. When I was done, I pulled my jeans back on, but it was warm enough that I left the sweatshirt off. Meanwhile, Jake had busied himself collecting shells, and he had acquired quite a pile.

"I know you big-city desert girls probably don't know this," he said, picking up a shell that, while not particularly pretty, was whole and holding it to my ear, "but you can hear the ocean in these suckers."

"I can hear the ocean without the shell," I reminded him. He covered my other ear with his palm.

"And besides," I shouted, as though to drown out the noise of the ocean emanating from the shell, "even desert girls know what seashells are!" He winced against my shouting.

"_And_," I added, "you know full well that I have been to the beach before!"

"That's right," he replied thoughtfully, dropping both hands from my head. "We met here. Sort of."

"Sort of," I agreed. I couldn't help grinning. "We were lucky, weren't we? Finding our best friend by chance."

"I don't know what I'd be doing right now if it weren't for you," Jake said, chucking the shell aside and starting toward the water. "Oh, wait; yes I do. Sleeping!" And then he jumped into the surf, splashing his huge hands and feet in a dog paddle not even Pandora could top.


	18. How Old Am I?

Don't ask me how this chapter took so long. I don't know! Rest assured that we still haven't caught up with some chapters I wrote months and months ago, so no matter how long the pauses take, I have not abandoned you!

I want to wish all my fellow Americans a happy Independence Day. Also, a week from today marks the first anniversary of when I started reading iTwilight/i. Since my decision to pick up the series was influenced by the death of a friend, I would like to dedicate this chapter to the memory of Audrey V.

Be warned that this chapter contains peripheral references to underage drinking. No matter where you live or how old you are, please remember always to drink responsibly.

And let's say it together: all characters and associated material belong to Stephenie Meyer. All titles are songs recorded by Frank Sinatra. All brand names mentioned in this chapter are for literary example only, and I am not associated with them.

* * *

**Chapter 18: How Old Am I?**

On the first day of school, I awoke in a panic to the smell of something overheating, and rushed downstairs to find Charlie at the stove with a spatula in his hand.

"Oh good! You're up!" he beamed. "In celebration of the first day of your last year of high school..." he reached for a plate of flat, brown disks, "I made pancakes!"

They didn't exactly look like pancakes. In fact, they didn't exactly look edible.

"Wow, thanks, Dad," I managed. _Why couldn't he have made eggs? When he cooks, he usually makes eggs. Sometimes he doesn't even burn them. _"I'm not sure I have time to eat, though. I have to take Dora out and get dressed -"

"I'll take her out," Charlie interrupted helpfully. "You sit down and eat!"

I took the plate dubiously, hoping Charlie would leave and get the dog, but he watched me with an expression that said he thought I would enjoy his culinary efforts. I swallowed and put the plate down so I could collect butter and syrup. And sugar. And whatever else I could find. Cinnamon? Jelly? I grabbed an arsenal of condiments and piled everything onto the table.

Once I had doctored my breakfast, I took a bite and smiled with effort at the cook. "Thanks," I mumbled through a mouthful of – well, just about everything. With a very pleased look on his face, Charlie placed a glass of juice next to my plate and went to walk Pandora. The moment he left the room, I surreptitiously scraped the mess into the trash, covered it with some paper towels in case he looked, downed my juice and ran upstairs for a shower.

By the time I was clean and dressed, Charlie had fed Pandora and left for work, but he had neglected to clean the kitchen. With a sigh, I dumped out the overcooked pancake still lying in the pan and threw everything in the sink. More work for me when I got home that evening. Still, it was sort of sweet that Charlie thought my first day of Senior year was something worth celebrating. Even if the celebration was more like a punishment.

Angela was waiting for me in the parking lot when I arrived at school. She had dressed up for our first day, and I felt self-conscious in my khaki cords and navy henley next to her white-and-yellow floral dress.

"Happy Senior year!" she exclaimed as I slid from my truck.

"You too," I replied. "You look cute."

"Oh, this?" She looked down at her dress. "My mom always makes me dress up for the first day of school. She even takes my picture. I kid you not, we have twelve frames on the bookcase in my parents' room starring yours truly, and by next week we will have thirteen."

I tried not to laugh.

"Hey, am I supposed to know where I'm going first?"

"Oh, yeah," Angela said. "Everyone goes to assembly in the gym first. Then we split up into homerooms and they give us our schedules."

"Really?" It was a good thing I had asked. I never would have known anything about assembly or homeroom. We had never gone to homeroom that spring. "Um, how do I know what homeroom I'm in?"

"It's done by grade and last name. You're late in the alphabet, so you'll be in my homeroom." Angela smiled encouragingly. "I guess we kind of assume everyone knows how things work around here. Don't worry; I'll look out for you."

Four hours later, classes were done for the day – no one had told me the first day was a half-day either – and I was wondering if I should go ahead to work when I spotted Mike leaving the front office. As I neared him, he looked up and grinned.

"Do you have physics this year or chemistry?" he asked, holding out a paper. "Because I can tell you right now I'm going to need a tutor."

"Physics," I laughed, taking the creased paper and looking it over. "This is your schedule? Wow, I'm never going to see you again."

"Well, I just asked if I could swap out of chem, but apparently physics is the challenging class?"

His voice tilted up at the end, so I answered the question. "That's what I understand."

"Crap," he muttered, taking his schedule back with a thoughtful expression. "At least I would have a class with you, right? Even if I flunk it."

"I'm not sure that's the best attitude, Mike," I chastised good-naturedly. "Besides, won't we still work together?"

He looked up from the paper. "I don't know," he answered, frowning. "We are swapping off Fridays and Saturdays, remember?" I nodded. "But we haven't really talked about Wednesdays."

"It's not like Wednesdays are particularly busy," I said. "But I've always liked our shared shifts best."

"Me too," he agreed. "You working today?"

"Yeah, I wasn't sure if I should go now or wait till three-thirty."

"If you go now, I'll go with you and we can ask about our shared shift. Orrr..." Mike looked at his watch and took a moment for some mental math, "we could go get ice cream, and ask about the schedule later. I'm starving."

I laughed. Despite the half-day, we had been given a full lunch period. But the question gave me pause, and I bit my lip, wondering if he had just asked me on a date. We weren't going to start that again, were we?

Mike must have seen my expression, because he chuckled and gave me a light punch on the shoulder. "Just as friends, Bella."

And, for the first time, I felt glad that I had dated Mike Newton. Because now, no matter what, he would forever see me as just a friend. And that was exactly what I needed.

Believe it or not, but Mrs. Newton didn't care when Mike or I worked, as long as she got Mike at home a couple Saturdays a month to do chores (an idea for which Mike's enthusiasm was barely contained, as you can imagine); so we collectively decided to keep the joint shift on Wednesday afternoons. At the very least, Mrs. Newton reasoned, I could help "Mikey" with his homework during lulls in business. Furthermore, if I ever needed time off to study for an exam or work on a project, I was granted permission to tweak my schedule as needed.

I had no homework that afternoon, so I stayed at Newton's for my full shift, but I made a point of stopping by the grocery store on the way home to pick up some steaks for dinner. I didn't want Charlie attempting another celebratory meal, but I did want to reflect the sentiment for him.

Thankfully, the morning of my second day of Senior year was less eventful than the first. I awoke to a sweet fragrance I associated with fresh rain rather than the acrid smell of burning fat. I showered, took my dog out to sniff her favorite tree, and ate a bowl of Cheerios. Grabbing my still-empty backpack, I forged through the light mist that was rolling through our area and climbed into my truck.

On the drive to school, I found my mind wandering to romance. Technically, I supposed, I had had a boyfriend. But Mike and I had never gotten romantic, which seemed like a pretty good indication to me that God not only existed but loved me; and here I was, a week shy of turning eighteen, and I had never been kissed. The idea distressed me a little. I wasn't really bothered by the implication that I was unloved, although admittedly I still felt lonely pretty often – the adoration of one's dog can only do so much for one's ego – but instead I had this nagging feeling that one day I would have an opportunity to kiss someone I really liked, and I wouldn't know what I was doing.

This guy would probably take me on a date. We would be enjoying each other's company, laughing and talking and looking forward to seeing each other again. And the moment would strike. He would lean in, and lick his lips, and I would... I would what? Pucker up? Open my mouth? Was it skanky to kiss open-mouthed on the first kiss? And how many dates would I have gone on at this point? Was three the rule for first kisses, or was that old-fashioned? Would a guy expect a kiss on the first date these days? I supposed I would have to take a passive approach: if he initiated the kiss, no matter what date we were on, I would let him kiss me and see if he went open-mouthed or puckered up.

It took me a moment to realize that I had arrived at school, and an even longer moment to realize that the lips I had been imagining belonged to Jacob.

_Since when am I thinking of Jacob's lips?_

Shaking my head to clear it, I gathered my things and found Angela at the edge of the parking lot, waiting for me under the shelter of a tree. Together, we walked to first period: English.

We had gotten our textbooks the day before, of course, but we hadn't had time to do anything but go over the syllabus, so Mr. Berty started us off with an introduction to Shakespeare. Being quite a fan of the classics and also having studied Shakespeare's greatest works in Freshman year, I listened to the lecture but didn't bother taking notes. We would start on _Romeo and Juliet_ the next day, and while he suggested we all watch the nineteen-sixties film adaptation (which, Angela informed me in a cross-aisle whisper, makes up for the lack of Leo with a great shot of a butt – her words, not mine), Mr. Berty didn't assign any reading. I hoped the whole year wasn't going to be like this; taking it easy on the Seniors was a sure way to cultivate Senioritis, and we still had the entire year to get through!

After English, Angela and I parted ways. I had Spanish with both Jessica and Edward, but thankfully neither sat near me, followed by US History with Mike, Lauren, and Tyler. Mike had apparently switched into this class since I had seen his schedule, and he did sit near me, with Tyler and Lauren on the other side of him; but the class seemed like one of those in which note-taking was the name of the game and visiting would be punished. (At least some teachers were willing to assign the Seniors some work!) After lunch came Physics; Mike was not present.

Being a Wednesday, that afternoon was my shared shift with Mike, so I asked him about science class. He had decided to stick with chemistry after all.

"You don't suppose you could tutor me, do you?" he asked hopefully. "I'm sure we could pay you."

My cheeks glowed a little at the idea of my employers paying me twice.

"I think you'll do fine. Just give the class a chance before you decide you can't handle it, Mike."

"But you're always better at this stuff than I am," he argued. He almost sounded like he was going to whine. Which would have been humorous if I weren't so horrified by the thought.

"Look, I'll help you with your homework," I acceded, "but only at work. Your parents don't need to pay me any more than they already do."

Reluctantly, Mike agreed and let the subject drop.

"So, you going to the party?"

"What party?" I asked. There were parties in Forks?

Angela had the same invitation for me on the phone Friday night.

"It's our first Senior Hype Party!" she exclaimed. "A different group of kids hosts a party every month of Senior year until we graduate! It's to get us to bond or something. Our first one, next Saturday, is supposed to be the next-to-biggest one of the year. The biggest is the night of graduation. Rumor is, the Cullens are hosting that one at their mansion."

"The Cullens?" I repeated dubiously. "I thought they didn't, you know, have house guests." The closest I'd seen any Cullen to really socializing with any of the kids at school was my friendship with Alice, and she had certainly never suggested I do anything with her family, let alone visit her home. "How do you even know they have a mansion?"

"How could they not?" returned Angela. Not an answer, but a valid point nonetheless. "Anyway, that's the word. Since Jasper, Edward and Alice are all in our class, it kind of makes sense for them to host the last party. And they don't really need the financial assistance of other students chipping in, so they get to do it however and wherever they want." Something told me Alice would be calling all the shots on that, if the rumors were indeed true.

"But next week," Angela continued, "do you think you can come?"

"I don't know. I wonder if Charlie would let me go if I asked him." There was one way to find out, and I knew just the day to ask.

My birthday fell on a Tuesday. Thankfully, Charlie did not reattempt the pancake fiasco in celebration, but he did make a point of giving me my present before he left for work. He gave me a camera; Renee, a scrapbook.

Oh, goody. I could record every moment of my unremarkable senior year and memorialize each one on a colorful, peppy page. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

Still, Angela had a positive view.

"Now when we go out for me to take pictures, you can take your own," she said as we walked to English.

"I guess you're right. I'm just not good at that kind of thing. And the scrapbook?"

"I'm sure we can find something to do with it." And then she handed me a little box wrapped in swirly pink-and-silver paper. She deliberately waited until class was about to start, because I couldn't open it until after taking my seat in Spanish, and she was safely out of range when I felt the urge to squeal.

Apparently, when we had gone down to First Beach, she had taken a picture of me dipping my feet in the ocean. I had my shoes off and my jeans rolled up, and I had been watching my feet to make sure I didn't step on any sharp shells; I had been so focused that I hadn't noticed Angela taking my picture. She'd had it developed in black and white, then framed it in shells and stones from the beach. It was so beautiful. Not just the picture of me, but the memory of the photo trip with her, and the work she'd put into the frame.

We weren't the type of girls who squeal, but the gift was definitely squeal-worthy.

So, instead, I chewed on a knuckle and wiggled in my seat a little bit, enjoying my present until class started.

Alice surprised me at lunch by stopping at my table to wish me a happy birthday. I wasn't surprised by her visit, of course, but how she had found out about my birthday puzzled me until I remembered Edward was in my Spanish class.

"I'm so sorry I don't have your present," she said, "but I will bring it by your house tonight."

"No, Alice, really," I tried to protest, but that was as far as I got before the pixie patted me on the head and flitted off to her family's table. To my intense embarrassment, the two others huddled in toward Alice, then all three looked at me conspicuously and simultaneously. Good grief.

Although I had hoped she wouldn't, Alice made good on her promise. I was doing homework in my room, waiting for Charlie to get home with my birthday dinner – which I understood was going to be some sort of fried chicken – when the silver Volvo I hated so much pulled into our driveway. Alice hopped out of the passenger seat and was already waiting at the door by the time I got downstairs.

"Happy birthday, Bella!" she cheered, handing over an enormous gift bag overflowing with tissue paper. "There's something in there from all of us."

All of them? Why would all of the Cullens go in on my gift? I peered at the cloud of tissue.

"We, uh, love birthdays," Alice added hastily. I looked up from the bag to see her glance over her shoulder at the car.

"Would you like to come in? You and..." I peered past her at the Volvo. I couldn't quite see if Edward were driving or not. I didn't particularly want him to come into my house, but I didn't want to be rude, no matter who was at the wheel.

Alice paused for a moment, then turned back toward me with a wide grin. "No thanks, Bella. We have to go." Another glance over her shoulder and I thought I could see her scowl. "I hope you enjoy your present!" After a brief hesitation, she then did something she hadn't ever done before. She reached across the threshold and hugged me.

The first thing I noticed about Alice's hug is how disproportionate the strength of the hug was to her tiny frame. And the second was how she emitted a little humming noise as she did it, exhaling into my hair. It was a happy sort of noise. Somehow, it made the hug more wonderful.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" I offered. "You feel so cold!"

But my friend took a step back and beamed into my face. "Thank you, but I really can't stay. Have a wonderful birthday!" And with that, Alice flitted back to the car and left me with the gargantuan bag.

I stepped back into the house to open my gift. Under a mound of paper, I uncovered a collection of objects: a box of chocolates from someplace called Lake Champlain (that didn't sound local), some sort of burned CD, a card notifying me I was a new member of the fruit-of-the-month club from Harry and David (whoever they were), a dog toy not unlike Dora's favorite squeaky, a tin that said Dean & Deluca stuffed with very colorful cookies (what was it with these people and food?), and a very fluffy throw blanket.

I couldn't figure out which part had been Alice's contribution. I figured the squeaky toy was probably Edward's gift, since I had told him so much about Dora when she first showed up, but there wasn't a single item in that bag that involved silk or a four-inch heel. Maybe the CD was from her, I thought. I would have run upstairs to pop it into my CD player, but at that moment headlights swung into our driveway.

As it turned out, Charlie hadn't been picking up dinner but rather dinner guests. I was ordered into the cruiser, where Billy and Jacob waited, and we all set off for Charlie's favorite diner.

Jacob grinned at me through the darkness of the backseat. "Happy birthday, Bells," he said, hardly above a whisper, but it was enough to rouse a chorus from the front seat.

"Yes! Happy birthday!" "How does it feel to be eighteen?" "You're an adult now, kiddo!" On and on it went, and I was only thankful that the sun had set already, or I would have had to hide my reddening face. By the time we reached the restaurant, I had summed up enough courage to announce that there would be no restaurant birthday shenanigans: no free dessert, no clapping servers, no giant birthday hat or whatever they did at the diner. Although they seemed reluctant, my little crew agreed to do things my way.

"But just this once," Charlie added, "because it's your birthday and all."

And I laughed, just a little, because that was the point.

After dinner, Jake started apologizing for not having a gift for me. He and Billy had given me a gift card, but Jacob clearly had not approved.

"I wanted to get you something that really said, 'Eighteen,'" he explained. "Like cigarettes or something."

"What would I do with cigarettes?" I frowned. "I don't smoke."

"No, I know. Plus my dad wouldn't buy any and I'm not old enough. But gift cards are so bo-ring." He chimed the last word like a two-note death march. "I don't really have my own money, since I've been working on the Rabbit, and after my dad, really all I have are Charlie and Embry and Quil, and Embry and Quil aren't eighteen either, and..." He was rambling. It didn't matter much; I had stopped listening anyway.

"Hey, Jacob?" I interrupted. "My dad trusts you, right?"

Jake looked at me with a sort of shocked expression. After a pause, he agreed that Charlie would pretty much trust him with a motive and a machine gun.

"Well..." I bit my lip. "Do you think you could go to a party with me next weekend?"

The party was at somebody's cabin way out in the woods. Despite necessitating a lengthy drive for everyone attending, it was a great location, because there was almost no chance a neighbor or police officer would get involved. Being the first party of the year, it was well attended, a fact made clear by the maze of cars parked along the overgrown gravel driveway. We had to park practically in a ditch and walk a quarter of a mile to the clearing where the cabin sat. Immediately I recognized several of my classmates engaging in activities that would get them in trouble if Charlie could see them. A couple boys clambered boisterously up some wooden stairs to an elevated deck. Behind them, a group of girls in miniskirts and Uggs watched hungrily. I was pretty sure the boys were from La Push. I didn't recognize the girls at all. I turned to Jake, eyebrows raised.

"Well, here goes nothing."

We climbed the stairs and pushed aside a sliding glass door separating the deck from a sort of game room that looked like it might have had furniture in it at some point but was currently overflowing with dancing kids. ...Well, dancing girls and rhythmically-bobbing boys.

"Bella!" Eric rhythmically bobbed his way over to me and put an arm around my shoulder. "You made it!" he exclaimed loudly in my ear.

"I know!" I shouted back. I caught Jacob eyeing Eric's arm. "This is my friend, Jacob," I added with an obvious nod to my giant friend.

It took Eric a few beats, but he warily removed his arm. "You should check out the kitchen! We have ehhh-verything!" For losing ground on a girl, he still seemed to be in a good mood.

"Sounds good!" I answered. "Where's that?"

In answer, Eric gestured strongly toward the floor, sloshing his drink over his feet as he did so. He looked down as though his feet might apologize for stealing a sip.

"Thanks!" I offered to the bewildered Eric as Jake and I meandered through the crowd and into the hallway.

The hallway was crowded too, and it led to an equally-crowded staircase, which wrapped around the living room as it descended. The living room was the main party, with a deejay's table and a couple strobe lights, and kids all over the place. The music was deafeningly loud, and I kept getting bumped and jostled and stepped on as we tried to make our way to the kitchen, which was just on the other side of the cavernous living room.

On the way we were detained by Angela, who tried to get us to dance. I, of course, declined, so she settled for Jacob, whom I couldn't remember if she had met before. If she hadn't, it didn't seem to bother her. She was about eye-level with his biceps, so she held onto those while she danced maniacally, tossing her head around and shuffling her feet to the music. Jake mostly stood still, watching the top of her head with a bemused expression, until he met my gaze and burst into laughter. When the song shifted to another one, Jacob tried to make his exit, but Angela was in her zone. She shut her eyes tight and kept her grip on his arms.

Three songs later, Jake leaned down and told Angela we still needed drinks and I was waiting on him. That seemed to shake Angela out of dance mode, because she then turned around and gave me a smile and wave, and Jacob was free to escort me to the kitchen.

There were bottles of all kinds spread out over the counters, but Charlie's one demand upon agreeing that I could go to the party with Jake was that neither of us could touch a drop of alcohol. We found an untainted two-liter of Coke and poured it liberally into a pair of red, plastic cups. Grinning ironically over our drinks, we looked around the room, which had a sort of sour smell to it and a definite sticky film over all the flat surfaces.

Due to its proximity to the main dance floor, the kitchen thumped painfully in rhythm. I was wondering deeply if my eardrums could actually bleed like you see in the movies, when I realized Jake was saying something.

"What?" I shouted over the music.

"I said we should go outside so we can talk!"

"Yes!" I shouted back, in a funny mood. "And after that, we should go outside so we can talk!"

Jake laughed, for which I was grateful. That sort of comment would have just confused Mike.

We went out through the utility room off the kitchen and found ourselves on a wrap-around porch on the quieter end of the cabin. Light from the party shone softly through a window to one side of the door, bathing the otherwise dark porch in a kaleidoscope of hues that reminded me of the blinking lights on a Christmas tree. I hoisted myself up on the porch railing to sit and talk with Jacob, who leaned against the wall by the door.

We sipped our Cokes in relative silence for a moment. My ears rang.

"It's so nice to be able to hear myself think," he commented finally.

I nodded. "Is it really necessary to suffer hearing loss to have a good time?"

"What?" responded Jake in a louder voice. "You say your boss is a mime? What kind of work do you _do_?"

I had to hold onto the rail with my free hand to keep my laughter from unbalancing me. The porch wasn't that high off the ground, but I wanted to avoid going airborne if I could.

"I sell tents and stuff," I answered.

"And tell me, Bella, what does the inside of a tent look like?"

He had my number.

"Well, why don't you see for yourself? We have some great floor models."  
"I dunno," he said. "Right now I'm thinking maybe I don't want to spend much time in the woods any time soon." He gestured his Coke at our mossy surroundings.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it would suck like this."

"I was just kidding," Jake said quickly. "I'm having fun. I like hanging out with you pretty much anywhere."  
"Well yeah," I acquiesced, "but we could hang out someplace closer to civilization and with fewer..." Idiots? "...You know."

"Don't worry about them."

"I can't help it. I go to school with these kids. They probably think we're dating now." I frowned at my red cup and took a sip.

"That wouldn't bother me. I don't care what they think."

"Well, you don't have to see them on Monday."

"Actually..." He glanced toward the shaded, glimmering window thoughtfully. I remembered the boys on the stairs and a few other faces I had seen among the mob in the living room. He probably _would_ see some of them on Monday.

"Just how lame can we be? We're not drinking, not dancing, -"

"Speak for yourself."

"Okay, so _you _danced a bit. But don't you feel like maybe we're just too different from these people?"

"I don't know how to tell you this, Bells," Jake chuckled, his voice suddenly dropping to an octave that made my stomach flutter, "but I don't really care about that stuff."

He raised his dark eyes to my face, then, and it was like someone clicked on a light. I forgot to breathe. No one had ever looked at me the way Jacob was looking at me, like I was the answer to some secret question. I was blushing furiously already; I could tell. And I was looking back. Right at him. All six feet and five inches of him, muscles under tee shirt, hands jammed into jeans pockets. Somehow the last eight months had taken gangly Jacob Black, son of Charlie's friend, and grown him up, filled him out, turned him into a young man, my best friend, my Jake. All his boyishness was condensed in the dark, glittering eyes trained on me at that moment and the sly smile spread across his lips.

Jacob stepped toward me, reaching out a huge hand and placing it on the porch railing next to my non-Coke hand. I could smell him, woodsy and masculine. Frantically, I tried to remember what I had decided about first kisses. How long had I decided to wait? Or had I? Did this count as a date? I needed time to think!

"Bella," Jacob breathed, his voice husky. His breath was warm on my face and neck. I tried not to hyperventilate. I licked my lips.

And right on cue, Eric burst from the kitchen door and stumbled forward into Jake, who bumped into me, and before I could catch myself, I was flying over the railing and tumbling down into darkness. I landed in a heap in the flower bed, and even though I'm pretty sure Jacob punched Eric on his way to help me up, I was the one who ended up going to the hospital.

* * *

**_A/N:_** Poor Bella. Always getting hurt! We'll see how she fares in Chapter 19. Meanwhile, I just finished reading _The Sky Is Everywhere_ by Jandy Nelson and it is adorable. If you need a romance in your life, give it a try. Also finished _Notes from the Midnight Driver _by Jordan Sonnenblick the other day, and it was very clever. I recommend both! Thanks for reading my fic, and feel free to review or message me. 3 See you next time!


End file.
